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May 19^ 1894. Subscription Price, $2.1)0 


KARIN 

SWEDEN 


WILHELM JENSEN 


Specially trandated for 


Once a Week Library" by 


MRS. WAUGH 


Entered at tQe Post-Oflace at TTew York as second-class matter. 


Issued Semi-Monthly. 


PaTER FENELON COLLIER. Publisher. 523 W. 13th St.. N.Y. 


Pears’ 


Pears’ Soap does noth- 
ing but cleanse ; it has 
no medical properties, but 
brings back health and the 
color of health to many a 
sallow skin. Use it often. 
Give it time. 


<CS>\ 


KARIN 

OF SWEDEN 



WILHELM JENSEN 

)i 


Specially translated for “ Once a Week Library ” by 

MRS. WAUGH 

o .. 


■ t ,4^ 

/V''^ . i- 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1894, by 
Peter Fenelon Collier 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 


We!! 


that ends well; all who have Coughs, 
Colds and Throat Troubles are mad^ 
well by 



of Cod-liver Oil, with hypophosphites 
of lime and Soda. When lungs are 
affected Scott’s Emulsion, if taken in 
time, prevents consumption. 
sicians^ the world over, endorse it. 


The consumption germ takes root and 
grows when the body is weak and 
emaciated. The germ pa'feses off v/hen 
the body is strong. 


Prepared hy SCOTT & BOWNE, H. Y. Druggists sell it. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN 


CHAPTER I. 

These are the Falls o. Trollhatta, which have 
^ rushed aud roared for tK Asands and thousands 
of years before any human ear was there to hear 
them. 

* Far over the rocks they sprinkle their silvery 

J dust, upon which the sun’s rays are reflected 

back, shining and sparkling, in rainbow hues. 
Deep down beneath though, under the dazzling 
majestic veil, roll and toss the tumbling angry 
masses of water. 

These are the Falls of Trollhatta, which have 
' tumbled and roared for days and centuries past. 

The boy who once played beside them has grown 
into the man, the man into the veteran who 
I crawls out, leaning on his strong staff, to gaze 

: upon them for the last time. They are young 

and lusty as when first he saw them wreathed 
with flowers like spring, silver-white as winter. 

It is well to sit beside the Trollhatta for him 
i who would fain forget, who would drown mem- 

I ory in the cataract’s perpetual roar. 

I They advance like a man’s fate, transparent 

and peaceful, kissing the nodding grasses bend- 

( 3 ) 



4 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


ing over them. Then there comes a slight whirl, a 
faster rush — imperceptible, unforeseen — and the 
peace, the transparency is gone never to return. 
And they rush on more impetuously, inevitably 
— ever lashed on faster, more furiously, until 
suddenly they are precipitated raging and tumb- 
ling into the engulfing depths beneath. 

When the pioneers of humanity came hither 
from out the forests of the South to hunt the 
reindeer with their ironstone lances, flat-faced 
and cheek-bones projecting, their lank- brown 
hair falling over their copper- colored faces, their 
thin beards hanging down like withered grass, 
shaggy skins around their loins, they were 
greeted by the roar of the Trollhatta. Was 
it for years, or for thousands of years, that 
they sat by its waters? They wrote no annals 
of themselves. The waves of Trollhatta alone 
murmured their history, dyeing itself red in 
their blood shed by the white-faced conquerors 
borne across the Baltic in their clumsy ships. 

Irrepressible, like a whirlwind, came on the 
nations of Europe, or like the waters of Troll- 
hatta. Then resounded Odin’s hymns of praise 
upon their shores, and his descendants, disem- 
barking, ruled over the nations of the Groths and 
Swedes. Ynglinger, they called themselves, and 
proclaimed themselves Kings of Upsala. Cent- 
uries came and went — who would learn their 
history from out the gray cycles of the past, as 
they were precipitated never to return in the en- 
gulfing depths of Time, must learn it from the 
roar of the Trollhatta. 


KARIN OR SWEDEN. 


5 


And once again the South gave birth to a 
new world-stirring movement, and the Baltic 
bore it across. To the rocky deserts of Schnee- 
hattan flew the message of Christianity, and 
a mighty race, called Folkungs, ascended the 
throne of Sweden. The boundaries of the em- 
pire extended wide ; and with its increase grew 
desire, covetousness and despotism, and they who 
had risen highest were precipitated, maimed, 
into the depths below, as were those depths the 
raging waters of Trollhatta. 

Then over the narrow arm which separates 
Sweden from Zealand came the descendants of 
those ancient Normans who had founded their 
Vikings kingdom on seagirt isles. Led by a 
Arm hand, the little Danish nation encountered 
their mighty adversaries boldly; and Sweden, 
unnerved by party strife, fell a ready prey to it. 
But a very few miles from the Falls of Troll- 
hatta at Falkoping it fell into the hands of a 
woman, and Margaret of Denmark laid her 
arrogant, conquering hand upon the heads of 
Odin’s grandchildren. 

Gloomily and angrily roared the waters of 
Trollhatta. No one who sat by its sullen waves 
could fail to learn the story, as, dashing from 
the heights, it proclaimed the arrogance of the 
conqueror, or, rolling gloomily along to precip- 
itate itself in the depths beneath, it muttered the 
shame of the conquered. Had Karl Knutson 
drank in their sound when, seizing his sword, 
he dashed asunder the Danish chains? 

He perhaps; but not those who succeeded 


6 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


him. Jealous of the power vested in one indi- 
vidual alone, the nobles would no longer suffer 
a king to reign over them. True, the actual 
government fell to Sten Sture, and, after him, to 
his son and grandson; yet the self-willed nobles 
only acknowledged them as ‘‘regents,” taking 
advantage of every occasion to infringe upon 
their authority. Mournfully flowed the waters 
of Trollhatta; for Sweden’s fame and greatness 
had become but a sham and deception. Over it 
lay the shadow of that Calmarian Union wrung 
from it by its first conqueror. Queen Margaret; 
a treaty by right of which the kings of Den- 
mark also wore the crowns of Sweden and Nor- 
way. That none of their descendants were 
mighty enough to press that crown in reality 
upon their heads might deceive the short- 
sighted eyes of the Swedish nobles — the waters 
of Trollhatta only gave out a more warning 
note, presaging evil ; they did not suffer them- 
selves to be deceived as they eddied with thun- 
derous roar toward Margaret’s grandson when, 
sword in hand, he sprang ashore to seize by 
force the crown of the Calmarian Union. Once 
more they dashed on triumphantly when Chris- 
tian the Second fled before Sten Sture at the 
bloody battle of Braimkyrka; but he came back, 
and Sten Sture fell. The firm, beneficent hand 
which, for his country’s good, had bridled the 
perverse wills of the nobles, lay prone in the 
dust, and victoriously Christian the Second as- 
sumed the crown with far more willing assent 
from the Swedish nobles than had the aspirant 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


7 


to that crown been from among their midst. 
The coronation took place in the church in 
Stockholm ; and Holy Communion was admin- 
istered to the king upon his solemn oath to pre- 
serve the Constitution of Sweden, and to take 
no revenge for the past. This was in the month 
of November. For three whole days there were 
public rejoicings in the streets of Stockholm; 
night was turned into day, for in the royal 
palace the lights were not extinguished until 
the sun rose to dim them. There was high 
revelry, the assembled Swedish nobles clink- 
ing goblets together in praise of the most 
hospitable of kings, and Christian the Second, 
moving smiling among the throng of nobles 
intoxicated alike with joy and wine, embraced 
the bishops, kissed the Senators, and heartily 
shook hands with the Mayor of Stockholm. 
And then the king, joyously clapping his hands, 
himself sung a merry song in honor of his wine- 
heated guests. But the waters of Trollhatta 
flowed still more gloomily, mysteriously, whirl- 
ing the withered leaves shaken toward them by 
the autumn wind ruthlessly down into the deep 
watery abyss. 

Three centuries and a half have gone by since 
that November. 

Fine and lovely was this November day in 
1520. The setting sun gilded the red roofs of 
the Naples of the North, reflecting itself crim- 
son red upon the calm surface of the Lake of 
Malar. To the distant beholder the peace of 
autumn lay spread over Sweden’s capital; the 


8 


EARIN OF ST^^DEN. 


stillness, too, of autumn, in strange contrast to 
the noisy revelry which but now had reigned in 
streets and market. Even now the central por- 
tions of Sweden appear but sparsely populated 
for their size; yet their population is increased 
fivefold from what it then was. The vast lakes 
and rocks remain; but between them now lie 
many miles of fruitful, cultivated land, which, 
in those days, were dreary wastes. Three im- 
measurable stretches of water — the Lakes of 
Malar, Hjelmar and Wener — spread away from 
east to west almost straight across the whole ex- 
tent of the kingdom, and somewhat more to the 
south the vast surface of the Wetter Lake unites 
itself to them. Between them alternate valleys 
and rocky heights, dark fir-covored mountains 
and sunny beech- woods. And upon all these, 
as upon the red roofs of the capital, lay the set- 
ting sun of that November day, mild and peace- 
ful as though it were the herald of May — spring- 
time of the North — instead of December. So it 
rested upon the silent waters of the Lake of 
Hjelmar, and upon the long, noiseless extent 
of Malar as it lazily washed up against the 
great stone steps of the Palace of Stockholm. 
It glistened upon the tall spires of village 
churches, and the battlemented strongholds of 
the Swedish nobles rising between the shining 
lakes from out the autumn-hued foliage; and 
further west it shone upon the ocean-like sur- 
face of the Lake of Wener, with its countless 
islands, from which, at its southern point, the 
wide Gota-Elf flows into the Cat-gat. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


9 


Beyond lie the Falls of Trollhatta. 

The boatman on the Lake of Wener hears 
from afar its warning sound in the sur- 
rounding stillness; the shepherd in the fields 
hears it miles away; the bird of passage 
high in the air in alarm wings its flight aside 
from the din, ever-increasing as it is neared. 
Then the ear grows deafened, the eye alone 
shudderingly takes in the white, foaming 
mass, dashing with thunderous roar over the 
sheer, ragged rocks into the awful depths be- 
neath. 

It falls on to the bare, ’precipitous walls 
of the gorge which rise perpendicularly — walls 
as though raised by giant hand to compel the 
wild, raging waters to keep within bounds. 
Only here and there upon the precipitous sides 
stands a solitary tree, on a flattened rock, sway- 
ing its bent crest westward in the evening wind, 
messenger of the setting sun. Across the Wener 
Lake come these gusts of wind at long intervals 
over the brown moss straggling over the rocks 
at the head of the cataract; and when, follow- 
ing the declining sun, they sweep over it, with 
invisible hand noiselessly they strip the last 
leaves from the tree-tops and draw them sport- 
ively over the sheer precipice to the edge of the 
abyss beneath. Merril}^ they dance over the 
brown earth. Another second, and the damp 
drizzle of the Trollhatta has seized them, drag- 
ging them down in its whirl. One after an- 
other, ever the same evening game in which, in 
its solitude, melancholy Nature seems to take 


10 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


delight, careless whether viewed by human eye 
or not. 

Suddenly a hand is outstretched to seize one 
of the leaves chasing its companion. Then 
there are human eyes there to see. A pair of 
great, silent eyes. 

Rocky ground, sparsely covered with moss 
and heather, stretched up for some hundred 
feet above the verge of the Trollhatta to the 
bare heights upon which stood three of those 
trees, raising up their leafless branches against 
the blue horizon. Here and there was a flat 
rocky prominence standing out slab-like, or ris- 
ing from out the ground like a gigantic arm- 
chair, and it was from one of these, in close 
proximity to the central tree, that the hand was 
outstretched. It was so small, the Angers so 
transparent and delicate, that it resembled' none 
other than that of Freya, as with silver reins 
she guided her golden steeds. 

Now the rounded arm, white as sculptured 
marble, is raised, like the trees, against the 
blue horizon, and sheds a white lustrous light 
around. 

Is it Freya who, descended to seek Odur, sits 
thus upon the ancient Odin Stone? Poets sang 
of her; her eyes were perpetual spring, her face 
as the light of day. And all was light that 
went forth from her. Golden the light from 
her hair, which, parted in the middle, hung 
down over the gray rock upon which she sat. 
The evening sun, shedding its last rays upon 
it, made it difficult to decide where the golden 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


11 


hair ended and sunlight began. Against the 
blue vault of Heaven it stood out. So the miner, 
when deep down in the bowels of the earth at 
work upon rough stone, suddenly lights upon a 
vein of precious mineral. His first thought is 
not of the possession, not the worth that it rep- 
resents; but dreamily, in strange agitation, he 
stands and gazes with speechless enchantment 
upon the sweet, silent secret of Nature. So she 
sat there, a sweet, silent secret, risen up for one 
moment from out the depths of Trollhatta to 
bathe her ivory brow in the golden glow of tho 
setting sun. Was she wet, was she cold in her 
chilly bed that she had ascended to earth to let 
the rosy light flood her cheeks once more ere the 
long winter changed her into frozen stone in her 
dark imprisonment? No, the light that went 
out from her proved the contrary. Had the 
depths converted her hair into liquid gold, her 
arms, brow, and neck to shining alabaster? 
There v/ere no jewels in those depths from 
which Nature could have conjured such eyes. 
They were of the upper world, born of the 
Northern skies, which had lent them its fairy 
light, its melancholy and joyousness, its un- 
speakable charm of laughter and pathos. 

She might be any one of its lovely goddesses. 
Gefione, the goddess of chastity,, protectress of 
maidenhood. Hylla, of the beautiful locks, and 
Gna, who floats upon the sunbeam. Hlyn, who 
kisses away the tears of earthly sorrow with her 
soft lips. Sioena, who with her divine hand 
stirs up the sweetest feelings of the heart. Or 


12 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Lobna, she might be, before whose limpid eyes 
no hatred or discord can endure. Wara, whose 
clear eyes search out every secret of the heart; 
or Synia, lovely warder of Heaven. 

From these all the poets chose out the loveliest 
attributes to form Freya, queen of the goddesses 
of Walhalla. From her eyes went out perpetual 
spring. The mind of man could devise no more 
entrancing conception. Then the Fates added 
grief at Odur’s death to the light of perpetual 
spring in Freya’s eyes. 

Lovely as the spring, pathetic as the grief 
which lay in the eyes of Walhalla’s goddess, 
was the maiden sitting upon the Runic stone of 
Trollhatta. jN’ow standing up, her shadow fell 
across the foaming water beneath. A long gar- 
ment of simple material clothed her youthful 
figure from the half bare neck to her feet; it lay 
in folds across her bosom in fashion like a 
Grecian tunic; the costly girdle which held it 
together was worked with gold and silver 
threads. Beneath the simple-hued tunic was 
an under garment of finest white linen, with 
full sleeves reaching to the elbow. Besides 
the solitary, fairy-like figure of the maiden, 
there seemed to be no living being as far as 
the eye could reach. Movement there certainly 
was as the wind, growing stronger, swung back 
the branches of the tree, and blew across the 
low undergrowth which stretched sideways to 
the very brink of the falls. But neither the 
noise of the wind nor the creaking of the 
branches were audible; the' roar of Trollhatta 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


13 


swallowing up every lesser sound in its tremen- 
dous thunder. Even the rustle among the thidk 
yellow leaves overhead was lost. The wind blew 
up in sudden gusts, rattling the dry leaves furi- 
ously; then again all would be still, saving in 
one part where the leaves continued to rustle 
restlessly. It was as though there were an 
aspen tree among the lower range; but the 
spasmodic movement appeared now here, now 
there, and the strange thing, was that the rest- 
less spot appeared to move in an oblique line 
over the declivity toward the river. 

Yet, as we have said, no ear, however keen, 
could have heard it; the eye alone, catching 
sight of the stirring branches, could have de- 
tected it. For one moment it seemed as if the 
youthful fairy of the Trollhatta had become sen- 
sible of it. Turning from the sun, which had 
sunk in rosy glow beneath the horizon, she was 
looking up-stream. But the ball of fire had daz- 
zled her vision, and just then a gust of wind 
from the Lake of Wener, passing over, shook 
the trees on the slope, bringing something with 
it somewhat like the leaf toward which she 
had before stretched out her hand. But this 
was no leaf, but another lovely frequenter of 
the Trollhatta, child of northern mountain soli- 
tude, upon which Nature had, in its kind, lav- 
ished equal loveliness as upon the maiden. It 
somewhat resembled the Apollo, that exquisite 
butterfly with its great shining eyes set on a 
white ground. The resemblance was even 
greater, as the rare insect now-, seized by the 


14 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


gust and vainly struggling against it, seemed 
about to be carried past her to the watery 
depths. For an instant she followed it with 
her eyes, then darted impulsively after it in 
childish precipitation down the declivity. 

Some fifty feet above her, from the spot where 
at that moment the aspen seemed to be, a head 
rose from out the withered branches and gazed 
in wonderment at the white figure hastening 
after the butterfly. Then the expression of 
amazement in the man’s keen gray eyes changed 
to one of alarm, seeming to inspire the strong 
arms. So hurriedly did they force a passage 
through the underwood that, even despite the 
din of Trollhatta, he might have been heard 
even down by the river below. Yet the girl did 
not hear, or seemed to pay no heed to the sound. 
All her thoughts and energies were bent upon 
rescuing her lovely resemblance ere the gust had 
irrevocably borne it into the fine spray, which, 
veil-like, surrounded the rushing cataract. Now 
she would stretch out her hand to seize the reel- 
ing butterfly, then she seemed as if fearing to 
press it too closely; for the delicate fingers were 
as undecided and halting as her feet had been 
sure and steady in their perilous descent. Truly 
it looked a dangerous position, and was so even 
more than it looked. The owner of the gray 
eyes, who had followed her to within some 
twenty paces, realized the full peril — it needed 
but a loose stone, a slip, a stumble, and the girl 
must inevitably roll down into the whirlpool 
of the angry waters, which, but a few arms- 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


15 


lengths from her, threatened to hide her loveli- 
ness forever in their yawning abyss. 

In vain. The young man’s loud, wellnigh 
angry shout of warning was lost in the roar of 
the cataract, to which she had now approached 
so close. In vain, too, her eagerness to save 
the other imperiled one, which the trollhatta in 
demoniacal power seemed about to engulf. For 
a second the butterfly still struggled against 
the fine, wetting dust which had caught it, then 
svith heavy wings it fell helplessly upon the sur- 
face of the water, at the very moment that the 
girl’s hand, far outstretched, caught it. As she 
did so the loose tuft of turf on which her knee 
was resting gave way, and she uttered a faint 
cry, as she strove in vain with the other hand 
to clutch at something steadying. A mighty 
wave shot pa^; it was as if a giant’s white 
arm had upstretched from the Trollhatta to 
clutch the golden hair, as if a peal of mock- 
ing, bewildering laughter rose up from out the 
foaming depths. 

The treacherous grass sank lower and lower. 

“Gustavus!” cried the girl in terrified accents. 
‘‘Gustavus! ” 

‘^ITere I am!” was the answer, as madly 
dashing, like some wild animal, through the re- 
maining stumps of brushwood, he came stum- 
bling down, pulling himself short up on the very 
edge of the deadly bank; with powerful grip, 
steadying himself with one hand, even in his 
descent he had thrown the other round the im- 
prudent girl’s waist, just as the fatal water 


16 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


had touched her shoulder. With superhuman 
strength he tore her back from the arms of the 
Trollhatta. 

It was the work of an instant, and more 
quickly still the girl, supported by the strong 
arm, had regained her feet, and was looking 
with grateful but with astonished expression 
into the face of her preserver. The hand she 
was in the act of outstretching was drawn back 
in embarrassment. 

The stranger, on his side, looked at her in 
surprise; but it was evident that his amaze was 
merely caused by the marvelous loveliness of 
the girl. He was a man of about thirty, tall, 
with irregular features, but more finely cut and 
expressive than is the usual type of Swedish 
faces. His dark hair fell disheveled over his 
face; his clothes, too, bore evidence to the recent 
struggle with thorns and brushwood. Observ- 
ing the girPs hesitation, as she held out her 
hand, the corners of his mouth dropped with 
a sarcastic expression. 

“Is your life so little worth to you, that you 
cannot even shake hands with your rescuer?” 
he asked, annoyed. 

The tone was even more unseemly than the 
words. A bright flush suffused the girl’s face; 
she drew up her slim figure in maidenly pride, 
and an equally angry reply hovered upon her 
lips. But she seemed to reflect that, uncouth 
as had been the words, the thought which had 
inspired them was the truth, and that but for 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


17 


his strong arm she had not been standing by 
his side; so answered gently, 

“I thought you were — ” 

He interrupted her shortly. “I not only . 
thought that you called me, but am positive 
that you did so. My ears bore witness to it, 
as surely as did my eyes, that but for me you 
would have been dashed down like the butterfly 
-you were so imprudently chasing. You know 
this as well as I do; and, moreover, that, in 
accordance with the unquestioned custom of 
our country, I have the right to demand a kiss; 
and that I am, besides, singularly unexacting 
when I demand no other reward than this.’’ 

As he spoke he abruptly seized her hand in 
his firm grasp and kissed it. She had been at 
first mustering him with calm gaze, then her 
eyes sank, she knew not why. She even allowed 
her hand to remain in his. There was right in 
what he had said ; and even had there not been, 
there was something in his manner which al- 
lowed of no opposition. She had no fear — what 
harm could come to her from the man who but 
now had risked his own life to save hers? — but 
as she passively yielded him the one hand, she 
glanced timidly down at the other, in which 
she still held captive the butterfly she had 
saved. Cautiously extending his antennae, 
the Apollo was crawling out from between the 
fingers of his preserver’s hand; it seemed to 
know that the warm hand had done him good 
service, for it did not attempt to fly away, but 
remained fearlessly sitting upon it like a white 


18 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


blossom, only from time to time flapping its 
wings with their red eyes, as if in gratitude. 
The young man, too, looked silently at it for a 
moment, then said vehemently : 

“Do you not know that it is the rule to leave 
those fools, who rush voluntarily into danger, to 
their own fate? You have now learned that 
otherwise they have a way of dragging their 
preservers down into the abyss with them. 
Who would have saved me, had I been such 
a fool as — as you ! ” he ended up, with a short, 
grating laugh. 

The girl felt a sudden sense of oppression. 
Was it the chill of evening, was it the singular 
demeanor of the stranger on this solitary rocky 
precipice? “I have no fear of the Trollhatta,” 
she replied, gently. “It has been familiar to 
me from childhood, and has never harmed me.’* 

“The Trollhatta!” repeated her strange com- 
panion, in surprise. “Is this your Trollhatta 
of which you make so much ado? Let’s see how 
wild your far-famed monster really is!” 

And with precipitate spring he alighted on a 
rocky slab hanging sheer over the torrent of the 
cataract, bending daringly over to look down. 
This time it was the girl who uttered a terrified 
cry. He did not hear it, but only read it, as he 
turned, from the movement of her lips and the 
expression of her face, and came back laughing, 
as he pushed back the wet hair from his brow. 

“That is refreshing to the hare when the 
hounds are after her. Your Trollhatta is a 
fine fellow,” he said merrily. “Would you * 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


19 


have been glad if I had rolled down there?” 
and he lightly pointed to it. 

The girl looked silently at him with scared 
expression. Doubts seemed to have arisen 
within her whether the mind beneath that 
finely-molded brow was not somewhat un- 
hinged. Without awaiting her answer, he 
continued: 

“Bah! you would not have troubled to climb 
down to see what had become of my bones; but 
the hounds would have lost scent in the water, 
and their master have well belabored them for 
thanks.” 

He frowned darkly, then seized the girl’s 
slight wrist so violently that it hurt her, and, 
despite her resistance, drew her several paces 
riverward, saying, as he looked in its direc- 
tion : 

“How should a deaf person, seeing the river 
sport with the fiowers upon its banks, as the 
setting sun is reflected upon its calm surface, 
and its waters flow on so clear, transparent, and 
unsuspected; how should he believe, maiden, 
that in its depths the sinister current is al- 
ready tearing along that shall engulf him — if 
he heedlessly trust himself to it — and in a few 
short seconds mockingly hurl him into the long- 
prepared abyss beneath? And yet I tell you, 
your Trollhatta is child’s play compared with a 
certain current I know of, which sports even 
more gently with flowers, whose smiles are even 
more brilliant and sunny, that embraces and 
caresses and strokes your cheeks. And those 


20 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


upon its banks are all blind and deaf ; they see 
not the abyss which yawns before them; they 
hear not the thundering din which shall drown 
their death cries — Ha! ha! ha! Think of me, 
maiden, when you next hear of it — it is called — ” 
Then, interrupting his speech abruptly: “What 
is your name?” he asked, roughly. 

‘ ‘ Katharine Stenbock. ’ ’ 

She had replied simply, without accentuat- 
ing the name, although one of the greatest in 
Sweden. This was apparent by the impression 
it made upon the stranger, who, starting back, 
said, looking full at his companion, yet in tones 
of unmistakable chivalrous courtesy: 

“By Heavens! The blindness of this land 
must be infectious, else had I known you at 
first sight, Rose of Trollhatta. Or rather” — and 
there was a singular charm in the winning smile 
which accompanied his words — “I had formed 
quite another idea of you from the songs of 
your beauty, Karin; for the eyes of our na- 
tional troubadours are as bedimmed as are their 
swords. I thank you. I must tell you that I 
have a certain impulse within me toward crazy 
actions; and now I may feel that I have accom- 
plished something for immortality, in that I 
have saved the Rose of Trollhotta.” 

Karin Stenbock blushed slightly; the stran- 
ger’s concluding words accused her of injustice, 
in having for a moment doubted his sanity. 
And yet there was a feeling within her that 
she ought not to have listened to them. But 
how could she have done otherwise, when she 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


21 


remembered that to him she owed her life? 
Moreover, there was a something in his speech, 
in the unspoken thoughts, perhaps even more, 
that drew her mysteriously toward him. As 
in her eyes, so in his, lay the changeful ex- 
pression of Freya’s grief for her lost, and loved 
ones. 

So the girl stood, more lively than ever in 
her indecision, looking down to the ground. 
For the space of a minute a speechless fascina- 
tion seemed to have taken possession of the only 
two living beings in that rocky solitude. It 
grew dusk, the wind was rising, blowing up 
dark clouds from the Lake of Wener. Yet the 
young man seemed to have become oblivious 
of the aim and object of his coming; his eyes 
resting with a dreamy look, hitherto strange 
to them, upon Karin’s lovely, half-averted face. 

“It grows dark, I must go home,” she said 
at last. He still stood immovable. She had 
gone a few steps riverward, then turned back. 
She wanted to ask something ; but, unlike her- 
self, felt embarrassed, and could not frame the 
words. Now as, with abrupt movement, he 
swept his hand over his brow, the old expres- 
sion came back to his eyes, the former tone to 
his voice, as he curtly asked : 

“Is Stenbock — is your father in Stockholm?” 

She shook her golden head. 

“He wanted to go, but he had hurt his foot 
and could not mount his horse. I was glad 
of it.” 


22 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


“You were glad of it? Did you begrudge 
him the kiss of Christian of Denmark?’’ 

“One should not accept the hospitality of one’s 
enemy. It is not honorable — and— not prudent, ’ ’ 
she added, more slowly. 

Once more the stranger stepped quickly up to 
her. 

“You speak a harsh judgment against the 
nobles of this land. Enemy? Are you aware 
that that word could cost you your head? 
King Christian of Denmark is now King of 
Sweden. He is your sovereign lord; and if he 
deigns to honor your father’s house with a visit 
you may find yourself in the enviable position of 
the new Dove of Amsterdam.” 

Karin proudly raised her head ; her only an- 
swer a hashing light from her eyes, which shot 
like a volcanic flame, irradiating her face. 

“And if you were compelled by force ma- 
jeurf^ he added, hastily. 

“I would curse you that your hand had drawn 
me back!” she said, with trembling lips, as she 
pointed to the rushing water. 

The stranger’s words had suddenly opened the 
sluice-gates of a stream in the delicate girl’s 
heart, hitherto unsuspected by her, raging within 
her, and which threatened to carry her headlong 
to destruction as surely as could the Fails of 
Trollhatta. Now as quickly restraining herself, 
she resumed, in her usual voice: 

“I know not who you may be, who think to 
terrify a girl. There are still men enough in 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


23 


Sweden ready to shed their blood to save the 
daughters of the land from such shame.’’ 

The question she had so long essayed to ask 
lay in her first words; yet he whom it con- 
cerned appeared not to have heeded it. He 
merely said, half-sarcastically : 

“You have good courage, Rose of Trollhatta. 
Do you know any such man? Do you know his 
name?” 

A defiant look crossed Karin’s face. 

“Did I name but one; there has been many 
a man, worthy the name of such, who has proved 
himself ready to save his fellow -men from 
slavery. Yes,” she continued with rising dis- 
pleasure, looking defiantly into the young man’s 
searching eyes, bent full upon her, “did I trust 
to no other arm than that Gf Gustavus Erics- 
son — ” 

She stopped in alarm, for her companion burst 
into a laugh so harsh and grating that it made 
the rocks ring again. 

“Do you know Gustavus Ericsson, Karin 
Stenbock?” he asked. 

Half- nervously, half -annoyed, she silently 
shook her head. 

Grfiiding his teeth, he resumed, after a pause: 

“You see, you only repeat what you have 
heard from others ; but I will tell you the man- 
ner of man your would-be preserver is. He flees 
like a hare from place to place to escape the Dan- 
ish bloodhounds. He sees women and children 
maltreated by Christian’s bondmen and stops his 
ears to their cries ; he hears the lamentations of 


24 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


his people, aad has no other consolation for them 
than empty curses. He is a cowardly scoundrel 
who creeps into ditches o’ nights not to endan- 
ger his precious life; a sparrow, who vows ven- 
geance against the vulture which has broken 
into his nest; and who is frightened at the sound 
of the clash of steel; who starts back unmanned 
if a dry branch but crackle in the wood — ” 

He broke off, as if to give color to his last 
words, and looked sharply round. The wind, 
which was driving up the storm clouds ever 
faster, preceded them, rattling the branches of 
the underwood audibly. A few premonitory 
drops of rain began to fall with sharp rustle 
upon the withered leaves. For a few seconds 
the young man remained in listening attitude, 
then, turning quickly to the girl, he said: 

“Karin Stenbock, I must stay to-night in 
your father’s house. Do not be angry with 
me. You seem to think somewhat favorably 
of Gustavus Ericsson. I did not mean to be so 
hard upon him. Grief for his fate, for his coun- 
try, made me speak as I did— not dislike to the 
man.” 

“I do not know him; that is, I have never 
seen him face to face,” she answered, quietly. 
“Yet, withal, I believe I know him better than 
you do.” 

“Think you so, maiden? I, too, have never 
seen him face to face; there has ever been some 
invincible obstacle in the way, and I wellnigh 
fear such will follow me all my life. But I 
have heard him— that is, heard of him— of ten ; 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


25 


and you may, perhaps, be right. Continue to 
defend him, Bose of Trollhatta. Perhaps the 
time may come when it may be in his power 
to repay you. And, by Heaven! as I know 
Gustavus Ericsson, were he in a position to 
strike the crown from the head of Christian of 
Denmark, only to lay it at the feet of Karin 
Stenbock, he would do it in gratitude that she 
still believed in him when he had ceased to be- 
lieve in himself, and had given himself up to 
his pursuers. And just because you spoke thus 
of him, have I asked you if I might pass the 
night in your father’s house; for I, too, am pur- 
sued and hunted by the Danish dogs as he is, 
and the kindness you would show me will be 
shown to one who hates the enemies of your 
people as fiercely as ever does Gustavus Y asa. ’ ’ 

The words were spoken with such grace and 
noble pride that Karin involuntarily held out 
her hand to him. “Come,” said she. “Al- 
though you will not tell me your name, if you 
be an enemy to Denmark, I bid you welcome to 
Gustavus Stenbock’s house.” 

Once more the stranger’s face expressed as- 
tonishment. “Have not bad times made you 
more cautious, Karin?” he asked. “Do you 
know who I am? What if I were one of 
Christian’s spies leading you and yours to 
destruction? And at best — you know the 
Danish king’s threats against whoever shelters 
an outlaw. After all, what matters it if one 
more nameless fugitive meets his fate, rather 
than that your whole house should suffer? I 


26 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


thank you for the good will, Karin, but I have 
slept too many a night under heaven’s canopy 
to dread yet another. So, farewell — ” 

“It may be that you are better acquainted 
with Gustavus Ericsson than I am, but you 
little know Gustavus Stenbock if you think 
that fear could hinder his affording shelter 
and protection to any friend of Sweden,” in- 
terposed Karin, gravely. “As to what you 
said before, I do not think that mistrust can 
win back freedom to any people, and I do 
think — ” she hesitated for a moment, and 
looked full at him. 

“What, Karin?” he asked. 

“That did it depend upon you, Sweden’s free- 
dom would be restored,” she concluded, simply. 

An almost perceptible thrill of joy passed 
through the young man’s frame. He followed 
her now, without further mention of the prob- 
lem he had put to her, down the side of the 
hill, whence they had wrhched the setting sun. 
In the west the sky was still blue, the bright 
golden girdle which encircled the horizon in 
that direction raying out like a Northern light 
to the zenith, while from the east masses of 
ever darker clouds were chasing one another, 
amid which — rare sight in the North at that 
season— a bluish light ever and anon seemed to 
flicker. The rocks they were climbing were not 
high, but tolerably steep, and arrived at the top, 
they paused for a moment to recover breath. 
The stranger looked round about him. Froai 
where they were standing they could see far 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


27 


away to south, east and west; to the north 
the still higher ascent of the Trollhafcta shut 
out the view. 

“The storm is over from Stockholm,” he mur- 
mured, between his teeth. “I thought so. The 
last few days were too bright to last.” 

“That is the past. There lies Sweden’s fu- 
ture,” said the girl, pointing confidently to the 
golden glow in the west. 

He smiled bitterly. 

“But it is sinking before our very eyes, and 
our day will be over before it return.” He 
stamped his foot violently on the ground, with 
wild look. “Cursed be he who thinks it!” he 
broke forth, impetuously. “Cursed be he who 
does not dare his all for his country’s freedom ! 
Cursed be thy beauty. Rose of Trollhatta, if 
thou sufferest it to reward another than Sweden’s 
deliverer! ” 

A first, long roll of thunder formed accompani- 
ment to the vehement words. Karin hastened 
on, her face flushed crimson, down the side of 
the more gently sloping declivity. Her heart 
was beating loudly, and her hand trembled so 
violently that the butterfly, still resting peace- 
fully upon it, with folded wings, began nerv- 
ously moving its antennae. The heavy rain 
drops fell more thickly upon them. Before 
them, in the twilight, rose a dense mass of 
trees, limes which had already shed their leaves 
and elms still in full foliage. In among them 
was visible the roof of an ancient castle-like 
building. 


28 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


“Is that Torpa?” asked the stranger. 

Karin silently nodded assent. 

“And is Brita Rosen, your mother, at home?” 

Again acquiescing, she looked at him in 
amazement. “You appear to know us, and it 
seems to me that it were' but right that I could 
say the same of you, whom I am admitting to 
the protection of my father’s roof.” 

“You are right, Karin. It was folly in me 
to withhold my poor name so long,” he replied, 
quickly. “My name is Gustavus Folkung. 
And if I may ask a further favor of you; I 
would beg you not to take me to your parents, 
and to tell no one that you have met me. I 
know that your men will have left off work in 
the out-build ings by now. Suffer me to slip 
into the stables, and spend the night on the 
straw.” 

She repeated the name “Gustavus Folkung! ” 
then added thoughtfully: “I have heard of you. 
You are a friend to Sweden. It is strange that 
all who bear the name of Gustavus are. Ko!” 
she exclaimed, rousing herself from her medita- 
tion, and addressing her companion in a changed 
voice; “that is not how you must pass the 
night, Herr Folkung. You are weary and 
need a comfortable couch. There is ample 
space in our house to shelter a fugitive, for 
my mother is there alone.” 

“You are right. Rose, I am weary. They 
have been hunting me unmercifully of late, and 
sleep were welcome,” he murmured more t) 
himself, than to his companion. “I do not 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


29 


mistrust your parents, Karin,” he continued in 
a louder voice, “yet a secret is safer in the 
possession of one than of two. You cannot 
lie. Swear to me that you will betray me to 
no one, under any circumstances, and I will fol- 
low you, wherever you may lead; for, as you 
have said, I am weary; very weary. To-mor- 
row, ere break of day, I shall be gone.” 

Karin bowed her head. 

“’I do not know what may be your reasons; 
but you shall act as you think fit, for I owe my 
life to you, and you are an enemy of our enemies. 
I swear that I will betray your presence to no 
one. Come.” 

Under the dark shade of the elms they had 
reached she took his hand and drew him after 
her. The rain now pouring down upon the 
trees deadened the sound of their footsteps. 
Karin went on silently, deep in thought. 

“It is the only safe place,” she murmured be- 
tween her lips, yet not so low but that, over- 
hearing it, he asked her meaning. With hur- 
ried answer she told him there was one room in 
the house, safe from all intrusion at night; she 
would conduct him there. 

The long building they had seen in the dis- 
tance now lay close before them. It was almost 
entirely in darkness; only from the ground fioor 
and in one apartment of the upper story were 
there lights. The first came from a room close 
to the main entrance, through the window of 
which could be seen the rough faces of men and 
maid-servants lighted up by the dickering rays 


30 


KAKIN OF SWEDEN. 


of an oil lamp. Avoiding the open doorway, 
Karin drew her companion on one side through 
what seemed to be a garden lying to the rear of 
Torpa Castle. Here the east wind howled more 
furiously, driving the heavy raindrops noisily 
against the castle walls. For all that, the sound 
of their approaching footsteps was caught by 
the quick ears of a gigantic mastiff, who uttered 
a low growl, stopped by Karin speaking to him 
in a low voice of command. Then with joyful 
spring he came whining toward her, growling 
again as he scented the presence of the stranger. 

“Quiet, Bjorn; he is a Swede, no Dane!” said 
the girl imperiously, and the mastiff, with one 
low, short bark, cowered contentedly by his mis- 
tress’s side. 

Feeling along the dark wall, she now pushed 
back a heavy bolt; then, cautiously fastening 
the door again on the inside, led her protege 
up a dark staircase and through some narrow 
passages until she reached another door. Tak- 
ing a key from her pocket she unlocked this. 
Here Folkung perceived quite another atmos- 
phere — a something which, despite November, 
came to him like the breath of spring, warm, 
yet fresh and fragrant as a summer morning. 
And now, barely had he crossed the threshold, 
than his guide, letting go his hand, hastily 
whispered ; 

“I dare not bring you a light here; it would 
betray you. Nor must you make the slightest 
noise, for my mother’s sitting-room adjoins 
this, and she has the most delicate sense of 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


31 


hearing. Moreover, some of the men or maid- 
servants might be in there. My father has 
driven off to a neighbor’s house, and only re- 
turns to-morrow. As soon as I find opportunity 
of doing so unperceived, I will bring you some 
food. Draw the bolt, and do not open the door 
until you hear it scratched and a voice say: 
‘Gustavus Vasa.’ By the window you will find 
a bench — ” The speaker hesitated a moment. 
‘’No,” s-he corrected herself, hurriedly, “you 
are exhausted. Here to the left you will find 
a bed. Lie down and recruit yourself, only^ — 
only if you would not mind taking off your 
boots — ” 

This last request she uttered disconnectedly 
and in some confusion; but ere Folkung had 
taken in the sense of her words, he heard the 
door close behind her. 

“Do not forget the bolt,” was whispered from 
outside. But instead of obeying he did the 
opposite, as, involuntarily flinging the door 
wide open, he looked after her in the darkness. 

“Karin!” he cried, in a low voice. There 
was no answer, only the shrill whistle of the 
wind borne in strong current through the dark 
corridor; the window of the room in which he 
was being open. The cold draught of air re- 
called him to the present, and shutting the door 
he drew the bolt. He made his way to the 
window, which stood out in gray outline from 
the surrounding darkness, and looked out, let- 
ting the rain beat full in his face. The ground 
beneath was not visible ; but he began to cal- 


32 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


culate from the number of stairs he had as- 
cended how far down it must be. In this 
calculation he was disturbed by the joyous 
barking of the mastiff, which came from the 
garden below, growing fainter and fainter as 
it resounded from the front of the house, clearly 
denoting the direction his mistress had taken. 

“Gustavus Vasa,” he murmured to himself ; 
“the Rose of Trollhatta said ‘Gustavus Vasa’ 
was to be the watchword. She should have said 
Gustavus Ericsson was a fool, who had lost his 
head at the touch of a girl’s hand.” 

Noiselessly retreating from the window, he 
felt his way along the walls of the room. It 
was strongly built, as a protection from winter 
rains and cold. Tall, carved cupboards were 
in the corners, then again wall. No, -here his 
hand met wood again, but this time flat and 
uncarved, as of a door. At that moment a ray 
of light shone through a narrow slit, and 
straight upon it followed the sound of a voice 
he knew. Folkung stood still, and listened. 

“Good-evening, mother,” said Karin, in a 
loud voice. 

She to whom she spoke answering, said, 
“You have been out a long while. It must 
be dusk.” The speaker could not only have 
weak sight; she must be completely blind. 

“It is night, mother,” replied the girl; “and 
stormy. I have been to the Trollhatta, and have 
rescued the last of summer’s butterflies. You 
know it, the one with red stars on its wings 
that flies over the Kinnakulle. He attempted 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


33 


to fly over the Trollhatta and fell in. I saved 
him, and ever since he has sat tame and secure 
on my hand. He has not told me that he is 
grateful, but I feel certain that he knows what 
he owes to me, and is so; and that were it in 
his power, he would be ready tO' lay down his 
life for me. There, foolish butterfly, settle on 
to the flowers.” 

Gustavus Folkung heard every word through 
the closed door. A strange thrill passed through 
him at the singular thanks uttered by Karin, in 
the name of the butterfly, in such unembar- 
rassed accents; and despite his weariness, lin- 
gering there, he heard the old woman sigh, as 
she replied : 

“You are a child and can toy with butterflies. 
You should have left him where he was; it 
would have been far better for him. I feel it 
in my eyes there are evil, stormy days coming 
upon Sweden; days which will snatch away 
what has hitherto been saved to her. Bead 
to me from the book, Karin, from which I used 
to tell you in your childhood. Open it at the 
twelfth page and read me of the Troubadour who 
sang the heroic deeds of his forefathers upon his 
harp, but had no word of praise for his descend- 
ants. He was blind, and sat by Trollhatta; 
then, breaking his harp on the rocks, he sprang 
into the foaming waters.” 

The listener heard the girl cross the room; and 
began now gently feeling his way back to the 
window. As he did so, his hand swept over a 
table and struck against some object which, roll- 


34 : 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


ing on to the floor, broke with a load crash. 
Hastening onward, he threw himself cautiousljr 
upon the bed, of which his guide had told him. 
In the next room the old woman’s voice inter- 
rupted the reading to ask: 

“Is Bjorn in your room, Karin? I heard 
something fall. Let Ingeborg take a light and 
look.” 

The maid-servant, sitting silent in a distant 
corner of the room, rising, took up a lighted 
candle. But Karin, rising simultaneously with 
her, said calmly : 

“Stay where you are. Bjorn is outside. I 
left my window open and the wind has blown 
something down. I want no light.” 

Opening the door of her room, she left it wide 
open behind her, as, with steady step advancing 
to the window, she noisily shut it. The light 
of a large, artistically embossed bronze lamp 
came through the open door, falling direct on 
to the face of Karin’s mother, sitting in a high- 
backed chair by the table, with the vacant eyes 
of a blind woman. 

Her brow, high and nobly molded as was her 
daughter’s, was deeply furrowed, and crowned 
with a wealth of white hair. Yet her arms, 
bare to the elbows, according to the fashion 
of the time, were still white and rounded. She 
must be younger than she looked, and when 
standing would present a noble, imposing ap- 
pearance. Folkung’s eyes could not leave her, 
as he muttered low: 

“You have aged, Brita Stenbock. You were 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


35 


young and handsome when I climbed upon your 
knees in Sten Sture’s house and tore John of 
Denmark’s chain of honor from off your neck.” 

He was silent, and turned his head hastily to 
one side as though impelled by invisible power. 
Karin’s dress passed close by him; he could not 
control the movement of his hand which went 
out to seize it and detain her. Whispering her 
name, he raised the hem of her dress and pressed 
it to his lips. Drawing back, Karin quietly and 
surely freed herself, saying laughingly, as she 
went back into the other room : 

“The storm will play no more tricks. Do not 
be foolish. Storm, and go to rest.” And, rais- 
ing her finger with playful threat, she shut to 
the door. 

Frau Stenbock, lifting her head, exclaimed: 

“How childish you are to-night, Karin — 

“The Storm and I have made acquaintance 
before,” she interposed, carelessly. “He is im- 
petuous and audacious; but I need but to stretch 
out my hand, and, commanding himself, he can 
be quiet and gentle as a lamb.” 

Her mother shrugged her shoulders. “Have 
you been chattering to your gnomes at Troll- 
hatta again, that you talk such childish non- 
sense? Read on! The storm does not appear 
to have paid much heed to your behest. My 
shoulder tells me that it is increasing. I wish 
your father were at home to-night, or, at any 
rate, Gustavus — ” 

Folkung heard no further; fatigue had over- 
come him. He lay in half-sleep, stormy 


36 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


thoughts chasing each other through his 
brain; then Karin’s hand seemed to be rest- 
ing upon his brow, and disentangling them- 
selves, the troubled thoughts were laid to rest. 
Without, the wind still whistled shrill, and ever 
and anon Bjorn would utter a long drawn howl 
in accompaniment. In his dream the sleeper, 
pressing the soft pillow to his cheeks, murmured 
the words spoken by Brita Stenbock: “Is Bjorn 
in your room, Karin?” A thrill passed through 
the dreamer’s frame. “Your room, Karin?” 
he repeated, and drew a deep breath. 

Suddenly starting up, he looked around him 
in amaze. The darkness in which he had fallen 
asleep had given place to a light bright as day. 
At least so at first the dazzling light appeared 
to him. Then he saw that it was shed into his 
room by the moon breaking through the clouds. 
But it was not the moon that had awakened 
him, rather a voice, or a confusion of voices, 
that met his ear. A noise, seeming in the dis- 
tance as of far-off thunder approaching nearer, 
had grown louder and louder; then, stopping 
abruptly, had altogether ceased. 

The secret guest at Torpa Castle hearkened 
with straining ear. Instead of the previous roll 
of wheels he now heard the neighing of horses 
without, and the sound of men’s hasty tread 
upon the entrance steps. The door of the great 
apartment in which the two female members of 
the house of Stenbock were sitting was flung 
open, and a broad-shouldered man of gigantic 
proportions came hastily in. His hair, fast 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


37 


turning gray, hung disheveled by the storm 
upon his rugged forehead, his lips moved ve- 
hemently, partly from exeitement, partly, it 
seemed, from pain, as he dragged his disabled 
foot along, forgetting, in his haste, to support 
himself upon his sword; his mantle had fallen 
from his shoulder. Over it appeared the fair 
head of a young man, whose eyes were peering 
about uneasily for Karin. 

“Father!” she cried, springing up. There 
was a tone as of unwelcome surprise in her 
voice, which, however, changed to one of alarm, 
as she looked at the new-comers. 

“What has happened to you, father?” 

“Tome!” Gustavus Stenbock, clutching at 
his throat, seemed as if he were wrestling with 
the words in his endeavor to speak; but the 
only sound that came was a gasping groan. 
Words would not follow. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Gustavus, tell me what 
has happened?” repeated Karin, turning to the 
younger man, who had flown to her side. 

He, too, was breathless, his clothes dripping, 
his riding boots incrusted to the kneeS: with 
mud and slime. Barely some two years older 
than Karin, it was evident that the dark ex- 
pression now to be seen in his clear, blue eyes 
was not habitual to his open countenance. His 
hands, too, were ♦quivering with excitement; 
his knees trembling with agitation and ex- 
haustion. 

The pause of a second intervened, in which 
neither made answer, and was broken by the 


38 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


voice of the mistress of the house. Steadying 
herself by the table, she had risen, and inclin- 
ing her head forward, asked: “Who was it that 
came with Stenbock? Is it Gustavus Rosen?” 

“Yes, mother,” replied Karin, who, resting 
her head on the young man’s breast, had thrown 
her arms round his neck; while he, vehemently 
kissing her eyes and brow with tender impetu- 
osity, murmured wildly, “You are safe — safe! ” 

Stenbock flung his drenched outer garments 
on the floor, as with almost angry gesture he 
exclaimed to the younger man : 

“Speak, Rosen. Tell them without reserve, as 
you told me!” 

Gently loosing Karin’s arms, Rosen stepped 
up to Frau Stenbock. 

“Sit down, aunt,” he said, taking her hand 
and leading her back to her chair. “I bring 
you a greeting from Christian of Denmark.” 

The words, spoken in a strange tone, resounded 
through the vast apartment. Ko one spoke. The 
door by which the two men had entered stood 
open, showing the faces of the men-servants, 
who had followed them upstairs, looking eagerly 
in. Yet a death-like silence reigned — the only 
sound the mournful howling of Bjorn without. 

Then Frau Stenbock, with sharp, accentuated 
voice, said: 

“Gustavus Rosen, you desire to place yourself 
under Stenbock’s authority; why do you hesi- 
tate? The women of Sweden have become men, 
now that her men conduct themselves like 
women. What message bring you from Chris- 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


39 


tiaa of Denmark? His handshake is treason; 
his greeting death.’’ 

“You say well, Brita,” replied the youth, 
gloomily. Seizing Karin’s hand, who had fol- 
lowed him, he held it convulsively in his. “I 
rode out from Stockholm last night,” he con- 
tinued, with trembling lips. “By the Lake of 
Wetter I met your father bound for the place 
whence I came — ” 

The white-haired lady started up from her 
seat. 

“You had deceived us,‘ Stenbock; you meant 
to go to Christian of Denmark?” she asked, in 
a hard voice. 

With a muttered oath, Stenbock threw his 
sword from him. The younger man hastily 
interposed : 

“I had advised it. All the nobles had obeyed 
the King’s command. I feared he would regret 
it, did he not — ” 

“All Sweden’s nobles are cowards and 
traitors!” exclaimed the blind woman, im- 
petuously. 

“Brita Stenbock you are unjust, and will re- 
pent your words,” returned the young man, 
moodily. “They of whom you speak are deaf 
alike to praise or blame. Since last night 
Sweden’s nobles are no more. The Malar is 
red with their blood. Every man who drank 
with the Danish King in Stockholm has paid 
for the banquet with his head. By Christian of 
Denmark’s orders the whole Swedish nobility 
has been beheaded! ” 


40 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Who had uttered that loud strident laugh 
which came, as it were, from one corner of 
the apartment, causing the speaker involun- 
tarily to look round inquiringly. Karin, too, 
turned her head, while the hand her affianced 
lover held trembled in his, and her countenance 
had suddenly grown white. 

Whose countenance was not white, after the 
words Gustavus Rosen had spoken! Even 
Stenbock’s eyes searchingly scanned the faces 
of those present, and over the heads of the 
serving men, who, in accordance with ancient 
Swedish custom on occasion of any unusual 
occurrence, had crowded into the family sit- 
ting-room. 

“Is there any Danish traitor among us? Who 
dared to laugh at Sweden’s downfall?” he asked, 
with lowering brows. 

There was no answer; but Karin, stepping 
forward, said: “It only sounded like a laugh, 
father; it was the storm.” 

Rosen looked toward the door leading to 
Karin’s chamber. “It seemed to me to come 
from thence,” he said. “What is it, Inge- 
borg?” 

The maid’s eyes, too, were riveted anxiously 
upon the door. “There was a suspicious noise 
in there before you came, Herr Rosen. But 
Fraulein Katharina was courageous and went 
in.” 

Drawing his sword the young man had made 
an involuntary step toward the door, when 
Karin intercepted him. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


41 


“Ingeborg is a timid goose, who believes in 
ghosts,” she said, holding his arm; “believe 
me, it was but the wind — ” and she gently 
pressed him back. 

. Brita Stenbock, as though struck by lightning, 
had fallen back upon her chair, her face sunk 
in her hands, and had noticed nothing of the 
foregoing scene. Now rising again without 
staggering, she asked, with icy expression and 
in a firm voice : 

“Who was beheaded, Gustavus Rosen? Name 
them to me. ’ ’ 

The young man, turning toward her, sheathed 
his sword in its scabbard. It was evident he 
was accustomed to obey his aunt’s voice. 

“Rather ask who escaped, aunt, and it were 
easy to name them,” he answered, “for they 
are before you. Your lord and myself,” he 
added, after a momentary hesitation. 

A strange expression convulsed Frau Sten- 
bock’s face. “You were in Stockholm, Rosen? 
How comes it that you shared not the fate of 
the Swedish nobles?” 

“I escaped it by a lucky chance,” returned 
the young man in a low embarrassed voice. He 
turned away his head as Karin’s eyes rested upon 
him with shy, hurried glance, yet differently 
from before. 

The mistress of the house repeated his words 
low between her lips: “By a lucky chance! 
Rejoice in it, Karin ; else were the head of Gus- 
tavus Rosen even now lying beside those of 
Sweden’s brave nobles.” 


42 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


The vexed, doubting look which for a mo- 
ment had been in the young girTs face disap- 
peared, and with a shudder she rested her head 
on his breast. 

Brita Stenbock resumed with icy voice : 

“Is there no one — no one left for Sweden to 
trust in, save Stenbock and — you?’’ 

The tone in which the last word was uttered 
was too. unmistakable to be answered by si- 
lence. Stenbock, who hitherto had remained 
silent, sunk in gloomy reverie, looking up now, 
said angrily : 

“The time seems to me ill-chosen, Brita, to 
rake up past errors. Your words are unreason- 
able, wife. Has Gustavus Bosen done you an 
ill turn by saving my life? Has he rendered 
good service to Christian of Denmark in that 
he hindered him from slajdng me with the 
rest?” 

“Mother!” exclaimed Karin, with proud in- 
dignation. 

But her mother, interrupting her, continued 
with voice and manner unchanged ; 

“I have asked you, Rosen, did no one else 
escape the blood bath?” 

The youth must have had reason to control 
hffinself, nor was it far to seek in the lovely girl 
round whom he had thrown his trembling arm ; 
for he replied more calmly than the other 
speakers : 

“I believe Gustavus Ericsson to be the only 
other who escaped ; or, rather, who did not put 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


43 


ia an appearance at Stockholm at all. The fox 
scented the trap — ’’ 

“Speak with due respect of Gustavus Vasa, 
boy! ” thundered the old woman, in such angry 
tones that Rosen stopped, intimidated. But 
quickly mastering her sudden vehemence, she 
slowly resumed: 

“Gustavus Ericsson — he was but a child when 
he taught me what was befitting a Swedish wo- 
man. As long as he lives — nothing is lost — 
perhaps all is won,” she added to herself, in a 
low voice. 

Raising her eyelids, she turned her sightless 
eyes in the direction whence the young man’s 
voice had last reached her. 

“I do not wish to hurt your feelings, Gus- 
tavus Rosen,” she continued. “You have been 
a child hitherto. Now the hour has come for 
you to show whether the blood of your fathers, 
or your mother’s Danish blood, flows in your 
veins.” 

Karin looked joyfully at her beloved. 

“Be sure Gustavus has as faithful a Swedish 
heart as you or I, mother; or as father and 
Gustavus Vasa,” she said. “But it is grow- 
ing late; you must all to bed, and to-morrow 
consider what is best to be done.” 

Stenbock shook his head. 

“To-morrow may be too late. Christian is 
swift — as the plague.” 

To this Rosen agreed. 

“I know a command has gone forth to search 
the whole country for any of those on the list 


44 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


of the barber’s apprentice, Slagbok, who may 
have eluded destruction,” he said. “At his 
instigation Archbishop Trolle made out the 
indictment.” 

“Heaven’s vengeance be upon the traitor — ” 

Brita Stenbock’s passionate adjuration was 
drowned by a nearer, louder howl from Bjorn, 
who now came fiercely barking up the stairs 
to the room they were in. 

“All the secular councilors, two of the bish- 
ops, the mayor, and the magistrates of Stock- 
holm were beheaded together,” resumed Rosen, 
excitedly. “All of a sudden the gates were shut, 
the streets lined with Danish soldiers, who had 
landed unperceived in the darkness of the night. 
Those present at the massacre who uttered a 
sound of lamentation were at once seized upon 
by the executioners and murdered. Archbishop 
Trolle besought the King on his knees to carry 
out the Pope’s ban by death — ” 

Here a loud sound of voices, and the clash of 
arms from the staircase, cut short the speaker; 
and Bjorn, bounding through the open door, 
sprang whining with eyes afiame to Karin. 
One of the serving men, following breathless, 
stammered out: 

“Hide yourself, my lord — the Danes have 
come in search of you^ — they are in the house 
already. We are not strong enough to defend 
it against them.” 

Stenbock straightened his powerful figure, 
laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword, as 
in loud and firm voice he answered: 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


45 


“Why should I flee from my own house? 
I am not aware of having committed any 
crime.” 

At the same moment the door, which the man 
had shut behind him in his panic, was flung 
open and a Danish officer, drawn sword in hand, 
entered the room, followed by a number of sol- 
diers armed with halberds. So short a time 
had elapsed between the first news of their 
coming and their appearance that — with the 
exception of the master of the house — no one 
present had had time to control the expression 
of their surprise at the unexpected event. It 
had called up a specter-like light into the eyes 
of Brita Stenbock, who had turned them with 
a glare of deadly hatred toward the door; 
Karin’s heart beat audibly as she riveted her 
gaze with feverish anxiety upon the door op- 
posite which led to her room; while Gustavus 
Rosen with involuntary haste had retreated into 
the shadow of the dimly-lighted window and 
was, with burning face, looking out into the 
night; Ingeborg, the maid, was weeping in her 
corner, her face covered with her hands; Bjorn 
alone kept his flaming eyes fixed upon the in- 
truders, throwing himself down with deep low 
growl before his young mistress’s chamber door; 
while from time to time he sniffed curiously 
under it. The Danish captain, after a first 
searching glance round the room, strode quick- 
ly up to the erect figure of the master of the 
house. 

“Herr Gustavus Stenbock?” he curtly asked. 


46 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


He who was addressed, acquiesced, without 
change of bearing. 

“His majesty, King Christian the Second of 
Sweden, bids you know that he regrets that his 
invitation to his capital of Stockholm was not 
accepted by you. But he is graciously pleased 
to forget that you have offended him by refus- 
ing to comply with your sovereign lord’s wish. 
In his clemency, therefore, he will visit your 
refractory conduct with no heavier punishment 
than by forbidding you, on pain of death, to 
leave the precincts of your estate until he grants 
you permission to do so. On pain of death, 
Herr Gustavus Stenbock! Now I have fulfilled 
my commission.” 

Stenbock breathed heavily. “No one is em- 
powered without the verdict of Senate to con- 
demn a Swedish nobleman to imprisonment,” 
he replied, firmly. 

For all reply the officer carelessly turned from 
him to the serving men of the house, from whose 
midst a low muttering had accompanied his 
words. 

“By command of his majesty the King, all 
disposition to resist his will shall be punished 
with death. Bind the rebel who murmured in 
chains, and take him to Stockholm!” 

The soldiers straightway seized the servant 
pointed out by their captain, none of his com- 
rades daring to venture to his assistance. Sten- 
bock’s hand alone convulsively grasped the hilt 
of his sword. Observing it, the officer, with a 
sharp look at him, continued: 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


47 


“It will rejoice his majesty to learn that he pos- 
sesses a loyal and obedient subject in you, Herr 
Stenbock. He doubts not but that he may fully 
trust you not to harbor under your roof any 
of those traitorous fugitis^es upon whose heads 
a price is set, and who roam the kingdom for the 
purpose of exciting revolt. At the same time, I 
have command to search every dwelling, with- 
out exception, in this neighborhood, and regret 
that, despite the lateness of the hour, I may not 
spare you that inconvenience. Begin with the 
adjoining room — that one there!’’ he added, 
turning to his men. 

But the self-control of the master of the house 
was exhausted. Oblivious of his injured foot, 
with one spring he had thrown himself before 
the advancing soldiers, and stood, sword in 
hand, between them and the door. 

“Tell Christian of Denmark,” he cried, in a 
loud voice, “that it may be his loss that he can- 
not reckon my head among those of the other 
Swedish nobles! He was lord in his castle; I 
am master in mine. I invite him to come and 
be my guest; and tell him, moreover, I only 
regret that he is not here at this very moment, 
in place of his underling, that I might repay 
him his hospitality at Stockholm.” 

The words were spoken with such bitter de- 
fiance, and accompanied by such a sharp swish 
of the heavy sword through the air, that the 
foremost of the soldiers drew back, alarmed and 
irresolute at the gray-haired, herculean-looking 
man who defended the entry. The angry veins 


48 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


swelled crimsoa on the forehead of the Danish 
officer, and he knit his brows threateningly. 
Signing to the soldiers behind him to lower 
their halberds, he said, authoritatively: 

“Herr Gustavus Stenbock, did I choose to 
make full use of my powers, this had cost you 
your life. In the name of King Christian of 
Sweden, give place! ” 

The halberds approached in close file, yet 
Stenbock did not stir. He looked full and 
calmly at the glistening points as they neared 
him, then with proud expression of satisfaction 
he threw his arm round his daughter’s neck, 
who, running to him, crying: “I am with 
you, father!” stood erect and fearless by his 
side. 

Yet the deadly weapons did not swerve. 
They were used to blood, and in the fierce 
wars of conquest and subjection waged by 
the Danish king against Sweden, it was 
probably not the first maiden’s breast which 
had been opposed to them. Undazzled by the 
loveliness of her they threatened, they continued 
to advance. Not a muscle of the stern captain’s 
face moved as he led them on ; it was but the 
work of a few seconds before the glittering 
spears must reach the door, before they had 
pierced through that which opposed itself be- 
tween them and it. 

There was, however, one person in the room 
who hitherto had remained a passive spectator 
of what had taken place. Not the mistress of 
the house. Sitting, as before, at her table, she 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


49 


seemed uniaterested, and, moreover, had for 
some minutes been sunk in thought. He who 
had been watching events with rising uneasi- 
ness was Gustavus Rosen. His confusion and 
his endeavors to avert attention from himself, 
on the entrance of the Danes, had passed un- 
noticed. With flushed brow he had listened 
silently to the conversation between Stenbock 
and the captain in command; then a convul- 
sive thrill had passed through him as he saw 
Karin’s impulsive rush to her father’s side. He 
knew enough of those concerned on either side 
to be convinced that neither would give in. Un- 
flinchingly the death- threatening halberds were 
advancing step by step across the intervening 
space — now they were leveled but a few feet from 
the breast of the courageous girl. 

“Halt! ” cried Gustavus Rosen suddenly, as 
he threw himself between her and the soldiers, 
who stopped, astonished at his unexpected ap- 
pearance. The captain, who also had been 
hitherto unaware of his presence, advanced, 
drawn sword in hand, as he said roughly: 

“Who are you? What is your business?” 

The young man gave his name, adding a few 
words in Danish in a low voice, upon which the 
officer at once lowered his sword with military 
salute, and hurriedly ordered his men to shoulder 
arms and retire ; then said respectfully : 

“I beg your pardon, Herr Rosen. I was not 
aware of your presence. May 1 solicit you to 
inform his majesty — ” 

Here Rosen hastily interrupted him. “This 


50 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


lady is my betrothed. It is her bedchamber in 
which you have commanded your soldiers to 
make search. You will understand how Herr 
Stenbock lost all self-command at such an in- 
dignity; nor does it need my word as a noble- 
man to convince you that no man is concealed 
in that apartment.” 

The officer’s face had assumed an embar- 
rassed expression. 

“Forgive me, Herr Rosen,” he stammered, 
“but my orders — ” 

Gustavus Rosen frowned, and his hand in- 
v-oluntarily sought his sword hilt. But quickly 
recovering himself, he said : 

“You are right. You must obey orders. At 
the same time, you will concede me the right 
which I should be ready to urge before whoever 
it might be; and both you and Herr Stenbock 
will allow yourselves to be satisfied if I take 
upon myself your duties in this particular apart- 
ment, in order to carry out the letter of your 
instructions.” 

The young man had spoken with unwonted 
energy and in a defiant voice, and had, more- 
over, laid such distinct emphasis upon the 
“whoever,” that the officer, with a silent in- 
clination of the head, had given his assent. 
Retreating a few steps, he gave orders to his 
men to search the other apartments of the 
castle. His bearing gave the impression that 
he was feeling he had gone too far in the in- 
sistence to his claim against the young noble- 
man’s expressed wishes, and was seeking to 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


51 


repair his error by taking up a position so far 
removed from Karin’s chamber that neither 
ear nor eye should take part in the search there. 
Stenbock appeared conscious of the great dan- 
ger to which he had senselessly placed himself 
and his family; for he now stepped silently 
aside, leaving the door free, upon whose handle 
Rosen’s hand was laid. 

“Forgive me, Karin,” said he, turning to her 
with a smile on his lips; “you know — ” But 
in vain his eyes sought her. Karin was no 
longer by his side; nor, indeed, in the room at 
all. In the confusion caused by Rosen’s unex- 
pected appearance among the Danish intruders, 
she had gained the door leading to the hall un- 
perceived. Here, turning to the right, she had 
breathlessly sped through a series of unlighted 
passages until she had reached the door by which 
she had led Gustavus Folkung into her room. 
Forgetting that she herself had bade him bolt 
it after her, she began shaking it, then recol- 
lecting, she scratched her nails along it, giv- 
ing the watchword in a low voice — “Gustavus 
Vasa.” 

At that instant the door opened, and in the 
moonlight, brighter now than before, the fugi- 
tive stood before her. 

“You had given me your word, and Gustavus 
Vasa waited until you came, Karin,” he whis- 
pered. 

“Quick. Come!” she exclaimed, without 
taking in the sense of his words. She rushed 
to the window, and seeing a row of halberds 


52 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


shining in the moonlight, uttered a low cry. 
Folkung, who had followed her, threw Ms arm 
round her. 

“Had they not been there, you would not 
have found me here now,” he whispered, so 
close to her. ear that his lips touched it. 

Dragging him along, she rushed back to the 
dark passage. At the same time the door on 
the other side opened, and Bjorn came bound- 
ing into the room. Gustavus Rosen, stand- 
ing on the threshold to allay all suspicion, 
called to the maids to bring him a light; 
which was brought him by the still trembling 
Ingeborg. 

“Do not go in alone, Herr Rosen. Take 
some of the soldiers with you — there is some- 
thing wrong in there,” she implored, nerv- 
ously. 

A happy smile played about the young man’s 
mouth. 

“You are right; there is danger here, Inge- 
borg,” he said, with sparkling eyes. 

Ho one gave heed to him in the other apart- 
ment. Ingeborg timidly retreated ; the hall re- 
sounded with the heavy tramp of the Danish 
soldiers, who, in obedience to their captain’s 
orders, had divided the lights among them 
supplied by the serving men. 

Gustavus Rosen, shading his light with one 
hand, advanced into the room, looking carefully 
round. Yet it was evident from the light in his 
eyes that his eagerness did not proceed from 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


53 * 


his self-imposed task, but from a far different 
feeling. 

All at once he stopped thunderstruck. His 
eyes had fallen upon Bjorn, who, standing on 
his hind paws beside Karin’s bed, was eagerly 
sniffing over it. The silken pillows hung partly 
to the ground, the bed showed unmistakable 
signs of a heavy pressure, the snow-white sheets 
were marked and soiled at the foot with wet 
mud and clay. 

He pressed his hand to his brow, from which 
the cold sweat was running. For a moment the 
room turned round with him. What Ingeborg 
had said; the cutting laugh he himself had 
heard; Karin’s words: “Believe me, it is but 
the wind;” her arm, which had so gently 
pressed him back from the door; her unac- 
countable disappearance but now from his 
side — all rushed with maddening haste to his 
brain. Then, letting his eyes fall, he mechani- 
cally lowered his candle to the ground. Traces 
of a man’s heavy, iron-clamped boots crossed 
and recrossed each other. Coming originally 
from the door at the end of the room, they 
went back to it again. And now Bjorn, be- 
ginning to sniff at them, sprang violently 
against the door which opened outward. Those 
who had last passed through had not fastened 
it securely; it sprang open, and the mastiff tore 
off along th^ dark corridors. Mechanically draw- 
ing his sword, Rosen dashed after him. With 
hair wildly falling over his staring eyes and 
fevered face, he was alone; but above him, and 


54 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


on all sides, he could hear the heavy footsteps 
of the Danes, and maddened and confused by 
the conflicting feelings within him, he cried, 
gasping: “Here, this way!” 

Karin had hurried her fugitive down the 
staircase by which she had led him up; but 
instead of opening the door leading out into 
the garden, had felt along the wall for an- 
other. 

“I dare not let you out into the garden; the 
house is surrounded,” she whispered. “Go 
down twelve steps, count them as you go, 
then turn to the left, and you will find yourself 
in a straight subterranean passage high enough 
for you to stand upright in; it will lead you to 
the Trollhatta, near the spot where you saw me. 
Some bushes, and a stone which you must roll 
aside, hide the outlet. Make haste; I hear 
them coming! May the God of Sweden pro- 
tect you! ” 

The hinges of the heavy door, swung back by 
the girl’s strong arm, creaked in the pitch dark- 
ness. “Make haste!” she repeated, hurriedly 
and anxiously, and disengaging herself from the 
arms of her invisible companion, who was en- 
deavoring to embrace her. 

“You do not know what you are doing, 
Karin,” he said, in an impassioned tone. 
“What would it matter to me, or* to Sweden, 
if, finding me here, they clave me down at your 
feet! What would it matter to you? But in 
death I would kiss your feet — ” 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


55 


A gleam of light appeared at the head of the 
narrow stairs. 

“You are raving!” exclaimed Karin, trem- 
bling, as with both hands she strove to force 
him through the protecting doorway. But her 
strength was as a child’s compared with his. 
Seizing her in his arms, he stammered: 

“Give me one kiss, Karin, and I will save 
myself and Sweden. No second will I ask from 
you until I have fulfilled my promise. But if 
you refuse me this one, I stay here and give my- 
self up voluntarily to the Danes, and you will 
be my murderess! ” 

Wildly the girl struggled; then suddenly 
cried joyfully; 

‘ ‘ Bjorn ! help, Bjorn ! ’ ’ 

The dog came bounding down the stairs 
whisking his shaggy tail; but even had he 
known what he was to prevent, he came too 
late, for the closely followed fugitive had al- 
ready pressed his burning lips to those of his 
mistress, in a wild, passionate kiss. With a cry 
of terror and indignation, Karin tore herself 
free, as the approaching light turned the cor- 
ner, revealing Rosen standing, with furious 
searching eyes, a few steps above them. 

“Thank Heaven! it is my betrothed! ” uttered 
Karin, breathlessly. There was a double sense 
of relief in the words; for herself as well as for 
her refugee, from whom she had had reason to 
seek protection. But very different was the 
effect of her words upon him. 


56 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


He staggered to the wall as though struck 
by lightning; then, springing like a tiger upon 
her, he cried, seizing her by the shoulder : 

“You are the affianced of another man, Karin 
Stenbock?” 

The words were accompanied by the same 
sharp, cutting laugh which had interrupted 
Rosen’s recital. The latter, pale as death, 
had sprung down the intervening stairs at 
the sound, the light he held in his trembling 
hand falling full upon Folkung’s face. 

“Gustavus — ” he screamed. In strong ex- 
citement he had torn his sword from its scab- 
bard to cleave Folkung to the ground ; but Karin 
had thrown herself into his arms, and ere he 
could utter the second name, the fugitive’s hand 
was on his lips. 

“You are a dead man if you speak my name, 
Gustavus Rosen,” said he, in a tone so authori- 
tative, that the young man instinctively drew 
back from his flaming eyes. “You have brought 
me good news. The mower was bound to come 
to cut down the weeds with bloody scythe ere 
the seed of the Future could take root. Do not 
forget Gustavus Folkung’s words! Farewell, 
Rose of Trollhatta, I will keep my word.” 

Startled Rosen looked up, the speaker had dis- 
appeared; only the creaking of the heavy, iron- 
bound door falling back into the lock close to 
where he was standing betrayed the way the 
stranger had taken. Now other, louder foot- 
steps stormed along the passage overhead. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


57 


Karin took the light from the trembling hands 
of her betrothed; who, leaning speechless against 
the wall, had fixed upon her his blue eyes, from 
which every spark of light had faded. Two 
heavy tears rolled slowly from them down his 
cheeks. 

“I am so glad you came, my own,” said she, 
thankfully. 

Looking wildly at her, he repeated: “You are 
so glad — Oh, Karin, if only I had not come! 
If only I had never come, Karin! ” 

Without understanding him, she seized his 
hand. 

The Danish captain, followed by his men, 
appeared upon the stairs. 

“Did you not call, Herr Rosen?” he asked, 
courteously. 

“It was nothing. Merely Bjorn scented a wolf 
stealing round the house to seize a lamb,” re- 
plied the young man, pointing to the dog, who 
had set up a low growl at sight of the 
soldiers. 

“We, too, have discovered nothing, ” returned 
the officer, retreating. Then turning back, he 
added, with respectful salutation: 

“I beg you to make my apologies to the young 
lady of the house. As little as to you, did it 
occur to me to entertain any suspicion in con- 
nection with the apartment of your affianced 
bride. But you are aware, Herr Rosen, that 
duty—” 

“I am aware; and I ought not to have hin- 


58 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


dered you from carrying out your duty your- 
self,’’ interrupted the young man, bitterly. 
“Rather is it for me to apologize to you; and 
I give you my word that, should it occur again, 
I will not repeat the offense. But, on the other 
hand, you might have been satisfied and have 
spared me the task. I gave you my word as a 
nobleman that there was no man concealed in 
my betrothed’s chamber.” 

Here Rosen uttered such a strange laugh 
that the Banish officer looked at him in amaze- 
ment; then saluting, retreated. 

Karin walked silently along the corridor by 
the side of her betrothed; her eyes inquiringly 
searching his face, as though expecting him to 
speak first. 

“You are so strange this evening, Gustavus,” 
she said, at last. 

“Strange?” he repeated, stopping abruptly. 
“It is not I; the world is strange. Give me 
your hand.” 

The girl did as he asked. 

He held the little hand in his, looking fix- 
edly at it, until the tears again welled into 
his eyes. 

“Two days ago I saw King Christian offer 
his hand to his guests,” said he, slowly; “and 
his was as calm, as white, as cool as this. 
Then, throwing his arm round the neck of 
each, he kissed him — ” The, youth, impetu- 
ously clasping his golden-haired bride to him, 
kissed her willing lips. “Ko, it is not the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


59 


world that is strange, but the human heart,” 
he continued, in a low voice; “for it will not 
believe what the eye has seen, and the ear 
heard. It will only believe what it wishes 
to believe.” 

And again clasping the golden head vehe- 
mently to his heart, he strode on. 


60 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


CHAPTER II. 

The whole land, from the German Ocean to 
the inhospitable Kjols of JSTorbotten, lies under 
the iron hand of winter. From the summit of 
the Kinnakulle snow spreads its corpse-like cov- 
ering around as far as the eye can reach; ice 
holds the unruly mountain torrents captive. 
Perhaps in the hollows here and there a stream 
might be flowing on with low murmur, but 
unperceived, unheard. Winter reigns around. 
And winter in Sweden is long; many yet alive 
will not live to see the return of spring. All 
save the Trollhatta lies under its stern sway. 
The Trollhatta owns to no conquering power, 
neither that of winter nor of Christian of Den- 
mark. Incessantly it roars, as though seeking, 
with thundering voice of warning, to awake 
frozen Nature. Incessantly it destroys the 
icicles hanging like an array of watchmen’s 
swords from its hoary sides, which impotently 
strive to bridge over and confine it, and dashes 
them along with its rushing waters. 

In all Sweden there is but one man who is 
like the Trollhatta. His name is Gustavus 
Ericsson. From the bundle of sticks which 
figures in his coat-of-arms, in Swedish called 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


61 


‘‘Vase,” the common people have given him 
the name of Gustavus Vasa. He is the sod 
of a Swedish Senator, and a great-nephew of 
Sten Sture the elder, the regent, who fell in 
battle against Christian II. It was in his house 
that Gustavus had been brought up, and although 
now but thirty years of age, he had met with 
many experiences. As a lad, King John of 
Denmark had seen him in his uncle’s house 
usurp among his playmates the role of a Cyrus. 
The Danish King, overhearing him, had been 
seized with sudden disquiet, such as Astyages 
experienced at sight of his unknown grandson. 
In order to guard against the possibility of the 
lad’s playing the part of Cyrus in later years, 
he decided to take him with him to Denmark. 
A determination, however, opposed by Sten 
Sture. Gustavus Ericsson was sent to the 
High School in the ancient capital of Upsala, 
until, civil war again breaking out in Sweden, 
he fought under the flag of Sten Sture the 
younger, against the treacherous Archbishop 
Trolle. In the celebrated battle of Brannkjrka 
he was standard-bearer. Yet what King John 
failed to do by open means his successor, Chris- 
tian, succeeded in accomplishing by cunning. 
He, promising to come in person to Stockholm 
to arrange the terms of peace, demanded as 
hostages for the security of his royal person 
six of the leaders, among them Gustavus Vasa. 
In all good faith the regent consented to these 
conditions; but no sooner had the Danish king 
received the hostages than he stated that he 


62 


KARIN OF SWEDEN, 


would not go to Stockholm, and Gustavus 
Ericcson found himself a prisoner in Den- 
mark. 

For one year he remained as such in the 
fortress Castle Kallo, in Jutland, where he 
daily heard of the formidable preparations 
Denmark was making for the subjection of 
Sweden. In Jutland no one doubted as to the 
speedy attainment of the object. In conse- 
quence of her quarrels with her seditious 
archbishop, Sweden was under the papal ban; 
and Christian’s soldiers, in their drinking 
bouts, were throwing dice for Swedish maid- 
ens and feudal tenures. 

One of the chronicles of that time says: 
“Over these indignities Herr Gustavus Erics- 
son waxed so furiously indignant and sore of 
heart, that he could neither eat nor drink; 
nor could he have done so had his prison 
fare been more appetizing than it was. Nor 
was his sleep sound and refreshing; nor had 
he any other thought than how to find oppor- 
tunity of escape from the imprisonment to 
which he had been so unjustly subjected.” 

And the opportunity presented itself. Dis- 
guised as a peasant, wisely and cautiously he 
soon made his way to the frontier of Jutland. 
To avoid detection he entered the service of 
a dealer in Flensburg, who drove cattle to 
Germany, and thus reached lubeck. Here, rec- 
ognized and warned to depart, he contrived, 
by the majesty of his presence, to compel the 
Senate to grant him a promise of its support 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


63 


did he succeed in stirring up a revolt against 
the Danish usurper. 

In May of the year 1520, Gustavus Ericsson 
crossed from lubeck to Calmar, the only Swed- 
ish town, excepting Stockholm, that still re- 
sisted the Danes. Stockholm was blockaded 
by sea and land, and, powerless to reach it, 
he wandered, in his disguise, through the sur- 
rounding districts of Smalard and Sudermarm- 
laad. 

Then Stockholm surrendered, and Sweden 
lay at the mercy of Christian, who, with 
cunning friendliness, not as conqueror, but 
as Lord Protector of the vanquished kingdom, 
invited all its nobles to be present at his cor- 
onation. 

In vain did Gustavus Ericsson endeavor to 
persuade his friends, in vain did he try to 
influence his brother-in-law, Joachim Brahe, 
not to accept the invitation. Early in Novem- 
ber of that year the nobles proceeded to Stock- 
holm. Gustavus Ericsson stayed away. 

Now winter’s snow covered the earth, con- 
cealing the blood which had flowed into the 
Malar. But the Troll hatta raged in its foamy 
depths, and as long as it was not bound in the 
icy yoke, winter was not all-conqueror. As 
long as Gustavus Vasa could find one loyal 
Swedish heart which, braving danger, would 
give him shelter in some rocky cave of the 
north, Sweden was not in subjection, and sleep 
fled from the ancient royal bed of the Folkungs, 
in which Christian of Denmark nightly laid 


64 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


him dowa to rest. True, it was a murderous, 
yelping pack of hounds which hunted the prey 
from east to west, from north to south, of the 
broad kingdom. Sometimes here and there the 
most ferocious of the bloodhounds would track 
him and keenly follow up the trace he had dis- 
covered in the white snow. But it was quickly 
lost again, and none could tell where it had 
disappeared. Many a Danish leader tore his 
beard savagely afterward, when he learned how 
close he had passed to the fugitive’s haunt; and 
that he had had but to stretch out a hand to 
secure the golden prize set by King Christian 
upon the rebel’s head. Sometimes the pursuer’s 
hand had even held him, and little wotting who 
it was, had let him go again, scot free. 

Innumerable legends and amusing adventures 
are still recounted by the country folk of Dale- 
carlia, as to how Gustavus Vasa, over and over 
again, deceiving his pursuers, managed to es- 
cape them. Once he was lying in the bottom of 
a wagon covered with straw, and the constables, 
getting in, prodded it with their pikes, thereby 
giving him a deep wound in the thigh; which 
he betrayed by no sound, but the blood flowing 
through the bottom of the wagon left a red 
streak in the snow. Seeing which the faithful 
wagoner cut his horse a deep gash in the fet- 
lock, thus removing all suspicion from the con- 
cealed occupant. Another time Ericsson had 
engaged himself as hind to a peasant, hard by 
the frontier of Norway, and was standing care- 
lessly by the hearth one day, when a party of 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


65 


Danish constabl'es, bursting in, questioned him 
as to Gustavus Yasa’s whereabouts. In this 
critical moment he was saved by the presence 
of mind of the peasant’s wife, who, belaying 
him smartly with a broom, turned him out of 
the kitchen, scolding him roundly for a lazy 
hind, who would do no work, but stood gossip- 
ing by the hearth. In forest depths, and among 
rocky wastes, he passed many a day in cold and 
hunger — but whichever way Gustavus Yasa took, 
he left his trace behind. 

Winter and Christian of Denmark still kept 
their iron hand upon Sweden; yet, as one single 
ray of sunlight has more power to thaw than a 
whole sharp night has power to freeze, so the 
Danish pursuers were powerless to exterminate 
traces of Ericsson’s presence. Like a secret 
dropping of water, the whisper passed from 
mouth to mouth, and threatening, flashing eyes 
followed the pursuing soldiers. Many a rusty 
weapon glittered in dark nights by lamplight 
as their owners cautiously cleaned and tried 
them. The seed of that bloody harvest in Stock- 
holm, scattered by the indefatigable sower, Gus- 
tavus Ericsson, began to spring up throughout 
the land. 

Springtime had not yet come to Sweden, but 
a low breeze stirred the firs upon the mountains 
betokening its approach. The Castle of Torpa 
lay still buried in deep, winter snow. The frozen 
surface of the Lake of Wener stretched far away 
north under its monotonous covering. In the 
16th century Sweden possessed few other means 


66 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


of commuaication — or, at least, what would be 
looked upon as such nowadays — than its water- 
ways, and the few there were, were so snowed 
up that they were impassable even to horse- 
men. 

Even had the road to and from Torpa been 
open, there was no one to avail himself of it. 
The ban of the Danish ruler lay upon its in- 
mates keeping all guests away. The only sign 
of communication with Gustavus Stenbock’s 
house and the outer world was made by the 
fitful incursions of parties of Danish soldiers, 
who unexpectedly, from time to time, usually at 
night, would surround the castle, as on the for- 
mer occasion, search it from attic to cellar — as 
then, fruitlessly — and gallop away. 

Only in one thing did there seem a change. 
The lord of the castle and his blind consort, 
growing weary of their long grudge against 
Danish rule, had given in to circumstances, 
and each fresh party of the King’s searchers 
had, to their surprise, to tell of a more friendly 
reception than the foregoing one. This be- 
tokened a change of feeling on the part of one 
of Denmark’s most deadly adversaries which 
did not pass unnoted at Stockholm. Gustavus 
Stenbock’s standing was great throughout the 
country ; his name would be an important sup- 
port to a throne acquired at the point of the 
sword. The King therefore took pains that the 
tidings were spread wherever his troops went, 
and learned with joy how a low murmuring 
against the traitor was gaining ground over 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


67 


the southern and midland districts of Sweden. 
He knew that every denunciation of his coun- 
trymen must serve to bind Stenbock more 
closely to him, at the same time that it loosened 
his hold more and more upon his oppressed 
countrymen and former brothers-in-arms. And 
what principally conduced to allay all mistrust 
of the suspicious King was the presence of 
Gustavus Rosen and the relationship in which 
he stood to the House of Stenbock. 

Gustavus Rosen was the . son of Brita Sten- 
bock’s brother, and a Danish noblewoman who 
bad brought her husband large possessions in 
Denmark. His father dying early, his mother 
returned with her boy to her own country. He 
bad scarce attained his tenth year when she also 
died, and having no relative in Denmark who 
cared to trouble himself about his education, he 
was transferred to the care of his aunt, Brita 
Stenbock. 

Gustavus Rosen had dearly loved his mother. 
He looked upon her as the incarnation of every- 
thing that was beautiful — as quite another 
being from* the people among whom he now 
was; and a golden halo was thrown round her 
memory and that of the home of his boyhood 
where he had lived with her. In his dreams he 
would feel the softer breezes of Zealand gently 
blowing upon him, and would wake with tears 
in his eyes. In his ears would ring the sweet 
voice of his mother, who had been wont to sing 
him to sleep with wondrous old volkslied of the 
praise of Waldemar Seier and the lovely Dag- 


68 


KARIN OF SWEDEN 


mar, while the tops of the green beech-trees, 
gently waving, murmured in the setting sun. 
Then Gerda Rosen would kiss him, and smile 
upon him so tenderly, mysteriously. A shud- 
der would run through the boy when thinking 
thus. 

A stormy gust of wind moaning through the 
gloomy fir-trees of Trollhatta would abruptly 
startle him out of his fond dreams. Cold and 
colorless as a greeting from the eternal ice of the 
North blew the air over the Lake of Wener. 
The waters of Trollhatta roared and raged with 
such angry din that the boy’s heart sank more 
and more. Terrified, he would flee from Na- 
ture’s wild ravings back to the house; where, 
instead of his lovely mother, he would be 
greeted by the stern face of Aunt Brita, who 
had never forgiven her brother for having mar- 
ried a Dane. Brita Stenbock’s voice, at no time 
soft or lovable, was harder and sterner to her 
nephew than to any one else. Awed and lonely, 
the boy would slip off to his dark room in the 
vast gloomy building and sob until he fell 
asleep, and friendly dreams would come to 
him, and every chill, weird, gloomy dream was 
Sweden, and every warm, bright, smiling one 
was Denmark. 

There was only one bright thing which did 
not belong to Denmark — only one. The little 
child with the sunny golden hair, who, some- 
times of a night, would steal into his room, 
sit on the side of his bed, and wipe away the 
tears from his lashes with her soft little hand.. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


69 


‘^Do not cry, Gustav us,” she would say, com- 
fortingly. “When I am big I will go to Den- 
mark with you.” 

Then his face would brighten; and, wide 
awake, he would tell her over and over again 
of all he had needs had to keep to himself by 
day. And as, lost in thought, he would gaze 
at Karin, it was to him as though her sweet 
child’^s face grew larger, lovelier, more expres- 
sive, until it grew into his mother’s sad, loving 
face, and Sweden possessed no single thing be- 
longing to it to commend it, not even Karin. 
Smiling through his tears, the boy would throw 
his arms round her neck and hide his face on 
her breast, as he had so often hidden it on his 
Gerda Rosen’s breast; and Karin, becoming 
sorrowful through sympathy, would entreat, 
with sobbing voice: 

“Do not cry, Gustavus. Indeed I will be 
your wife and mother, too, and we will go 
together to Denmark.” 

Sometimes Brita Stsobock would find the 
children next morning fast asleep, cheek to 
cheek. Then a heavy punishment would be- 
fall Karin for disobedience in having again 
tried to console her obstinate Danish cousin, 
who deserved far worse than to be made to 
sleep alone. And Stenbock would be called 
upon to chastise the boy for his crime, in 
having suffered himself to be thus comforted. 
But he, having far more weighty thoughts 
to occupy him in public events, would usually 
reply : 




70 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


“Let the children be, Brita, until their time 
comes.” 

Perhaps it was not displeasing to him to 
observe the growing attachment between his 
daughter and her wealthy cousin. The name 
of Stenbock was more weighty than the money 
its estates represented; for, like most property 
in mid Sweden, it had suffered considerably by 
the almost incessant wars of the past century. 
Concerning the education of his nephew, Gus- 
tavus Stenbock troubled himself not in the 
slightest; partly from the influences of the 
times; may be, partly from his own want of 
culture. All that it behooved a Swedish noble- 
man to learn could be best taught by the priest, 
whose patron was the lord of the castle. 

Gentle and dreamy as was Rosen’s nature, and 
averse to associate with other boys of his own 
age and rank, he was yet an adept at athletic 
exercises. To Karin’s alarm he would ride the 
wildest horses, and throw the javelin with the 
most expert of his uncle’s serving men. Ft'i* 
miles round the Trollhatta there was no rock 
so steep or dangerous but that he would climb 
it to gather Karin some rare flower; no matter 
what the wind, he would swim out in Lake 
Wener until he was lost to the eyes of the 
watcher, who would wait long and anxiously 
until his fair head was once more discernible 
among the white breakers. Then, reclining on 
the sunny slope at Karin’s feet, he would look 
mysteriously into her blue eyes and tell of all 
the wondrous things he had seen out in the dark 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


71 


expanse, or had heard in its depths. While she 
would tell him old legends of her country, to 
which he would listen attentively. 

There was a similarity in the two children 
which seemed almost to do away with difference 
of sex, a delicate thoughtful tendency which 
rose above the level and mental capacities of 
those surrounding them, presenting as great a 
contrast to them as did their refined exteriors 
to the wild, rocky wilderness of the Trollhatta. 
In one respect alone they were unlike each 
other; and this difference imperceptibly grew 
day by day. The days had long gone by since 
Karin, in childish eagerness, had comforted her 
cousin by telling him she would go with him to 
Denmark when she was grown up and was his 
wife. As the flower silently develops its char- 
acteristics according to the climate whence it 
comes, so in that respect was Karin the child of 
her country. Her eyes would brighten when 
she spoke of Sweden’s victories over Denmark; 
she hated the usurping nation with child-like 
fury. Gustavus Rosen, smilingly shaking his 
head, would answer that men were men, which- 
ever side of the Sound they might happen to be; 
and that there was no need for them to hate and 
fight each other ; they should love one another, 
as he loved Karin. Then the little girl, clinch- 
ing her small fist, would declare never, never 
could Dane and Swede love one another, they 
were deadly enemies from their birth. And 
then throwing her arms round her playfellow’s 
neck, grown so strangely sad looking, she would 


7 % 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


draw him to her; and he would tell her once 
more of the lovely Dagmar, and of how King 
Waldemar wept at her death, until the tears, 
too, flowed to her eyes; she never thinking that 
it was a Danish queen at whose loss she was 
sobbing. 

So the children lived and grew up. The times 
were wild, a.nd the grown-up people around them 
gave but little heed to them. They had no one 
to confide in but each other, and their hearts 
were as an open book one to another. And 
strange to say, the more ardently with years 
patriotism took possession of Karin’s heart, 
the less did she ponder how widely different 
were Gustavus’s feelings. To her he was every 
bit as faithful a Swede as was young Gustavus 
Yasa, of whom every one was beginning to 
speak; and in her dreams she placed as proud 
hopes on him as did her father and mother on 
Yasa. On his side, Gustavus Rosen saw in her, 
more and more, the picture of his lovely mother, 
who, after her husband’s death, had had to flee 
from his relatives and from Sweden. To him 
Karin, like her, was a slave in a strange land, 
and one day he was to be her deliverer, and take 
her back to her own home — to lovely, sunny, 
smiling Denmark. 

At all events, it never occurred to either to 
think life possible without the other. The time 
when first they began to climb the rocks, hand 
in hand, or to wander through the broad forests 
together, seemed to them immeasurably long- 
ago; beyond it they had no recollection. And, 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


73 


in truth, many a year had flown since Gustavus 
Rosen had first come to Tarpa; and from little 
boy and girl they had grown into youth and 
maiden. But contrary to custom, their rela- 
tions to each other remained the same; no 
stiffness had come between them, no maidenly 
bashfulness on her side. As of old, they went 
hand in hand ; and yet they did not treat each 
other as brother and sister. Karin continued 
to say “when I am your wife, Gustavus; ” only 
the “when I am grown up” did not follow, for 
she was grown up. Thus in all things they were 
as formerly; and the two playfellows had merged 
into lovers without knowing it. 

It was the old love, but clad in the garb of 
life’s springtime, and invisibly did spring 
shower its blossoms upon them; and they 
drank in its aroma in full draughts and with 
glistening eyes, without giving one thought 
whence it came. 

Then suddenly came the knowledge. Gustav- 
us Rosen had attained his eighteenth year, and 
with it his majority, and it was incumbent on 
him to go across to Zealand to take possession 
of his property. It was the first parting, and 
the thought of it, on the evening before his 
journey, tore aside the dream-like veil in which 
they had been so long enveloped. He felt that 
he could not leave her without the right to come 
back again. Karin was in tears. 

The Stenbocks, one and all, thought they 
knew the lad, and not one — even Karin herself 
— knew him thoroughly. Perhaps there was one 


74 KARIN OF SWEDEN. 

( 

only who did— Brita Stenbock — and she refused 
her consent when he c>penly asked his uncle for 
Karin’s hand. She had to give in; for Stenbock 
stood to his determination “to let the children 
do as they liked,” having, as we have said, 
from the first approved their liking for each 
other. 

Now it was Brita’s endeavor, at least, to 
defer Gustavus’s journey to Denmark; but 
even here she was met by her husband’s de- 
cided opposition. In his opinion, it was not 
only desirable, but absolutely necessary for 
both that, having been brought up so entirely 
together, they should know what it was to be 
separated. It was to be but a short parting, 
and their joy at the father’s consent overbal- 
anced the thought of it. 

In solemn manner, according to old Swedish 
custom, the betrothal was announced and cele- 
brated; Sweden’s greatest nobles were assem- 
bled in Castle Torpa; goblets passed round 
until far into the night, and many an enthu- 
siastic toast for Sweden’s weal and of hatred to 
the Danes resounded. Heated with wine and 
happiness, Rosen knew riot, next morning, what 
he had said, only that every one had shaken him 
warmly by the hand, that Karin’s face had 
beamed with delight, and that even Brita Sten- 
bock’ s stern countenance had smiled approv- 
ingly on him. 

Hand in hand, as a thousand times before, 
the affianced couple made their way, next day, 
to Trollhatta. Their steps grew slower the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


75 


nearer they approached the noisy cataract. 
Behind them followed a groom leading the 
young man’s horse. 

“I feel as if we were bidding farewell to our 
youth,” said the maiden, struggling against her 
tears. 

He smiled. 

“We have been foolish children ; we are but 
bidding farewell to foolishness — ” 

“But happy children,” she put in, reproach- 
fully. 

He looked round dreamily. 

“All is as it has been from the beginning of 
our lives, and my heart beats as then when first 
your little hand led me here. How many, many 
years we have sat here and felt the beating of 
our hearts without understanding them. We 
thought we knew each other as well as we knew 
ourselves, and that our most secret thoughts 
were open to each other, little witting that we 
were cherishing this great- secret within us. Is 
it the only one, Karin?” 

With eyes bedewed with tears she looked as- 
sent, and he, vehemently clasping her to his 
heart, pressed a kiss upon her lips. 

“Trollhatta is the third in our bond; it is our 
oldest friend. Promise me that by it shall be 
our meeting-place when I come back. I will 
send you tidings of my coming.” 

He had sprung upon his horse; Karin held 
out her hand for a last farewell. 

“Come when you will,” said she, “I will 
await you at Trollhatta. ITo — not when you 


76 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


will. Come when you feel that my heart can 
bear our separation no longer. Think how I 
shall be counting each drop as it falls in Troll- 
hatta; and that each one will be an eternity to 
Karin.’’ 

It was a singular coincidence that upon the 
very ship which bore Rosen from Goteborg to 
Copenhagen should be Gustayus Ericsson, then 
going as hostage for the King’s safety from 
Stockholm to Denmark. Ten years older than 
Rosen, his finely chiseled, thoughtful, manly 
face was to the dreamy face of the youth as a 
noble tree that has stood many a storm to a 
slender sapling full of promise. The passage 
was delayed by contrary winds, which soon grew 
into a gale. Rosen, astonished, saw Gustavus 
Ericsson, in the height of the storm, climb the rig- 
ging of the endangered ship like any experienced 
sailor, and risk his life more than once to save 
it. A mixed feeling of liking and of awe arose 
within him toward the young man whose pierc- 
ing eye he did not dare to meet when conversa- 
tion turned upon the great question of the day, 
then absorbing every mind in the north. Not 
for the world could he have spoken to him of 
Karin, and his newly declared love for her. He 
felt as though the raging waters of Trollhatta 
could better have understood it, than Gustavus 
Vasa, with his piercing eyes and hard laugh. 

Both alike deceived themselves in one par- 
ticular. Vasa, like his inexperienced fellow- 
passenger, expected that a few weeks would see 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


77 


him back ia Sweden, when the treaty of peace 
was arranged with Sweden. 

Of this latter Rosen knew scarce anything. 
What had it, what had the ancient strife be- 
tween Denmark and Sweden, to do with his 
love? The first thing he knew of it was when, 
landing on Danish territory, he saw a body of 
Danish soldiers seize his companion, arrest him, 
and carry him off amid the cheers of the crowd 
that had gathered. He was informed that his 
chance acquaintance was the most contumacious 
rebel in all Sweden; and that it had been un- 
wise clemency on the part of the king to have 
suffered him to come as prisoner to Jutland, 
instead of having had him at once beheaded. 

Wherever Gustavus Rosen went, he heard the 
same opinion. Every one was speaking of the 
coming war, which was to realize the shadowy 
promise of the Calmarian Union. For the first 
time, Rosen found himself in the midst of a po- 
litical movement. Uo one doubted for an in. 
stant but that he was heart and soul a stanch 
Dane; as on the other side the Sound he had 
been as unquestionably reckoned to be a stanch 
Swede. Moreover, here he was a somebody, 
which he had not been there. He found him- 
self at once acknowledged for v/hat he was — a 
man of wealth and distinction, whose favor people 
were anxious to secure. The men treated him 
with consideration, the women courted him. 

His cheeks flushed. For the second time 
there came over him the feeling — other than 
that of his childish days, it is true, and per- 


78 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


haps this time having its root in vanity, yet 
a pardonable vanity at eighteen — that Den- 
mark was his home. 

Still, pleasurably as the thought presented 
itself, it did not take possession of him. His 
thought was incessantly of Karin; her image 
it was which lent to everything the sunny fas- 
cination that encircled him ; from out the golden 
ground of every goblet he raised to his lips, 
looked, as though in a mirror, microscopically 
small but distinct, her sweet face, framed in the 
solitary mountain grandeur of the Trollhatta. 
He hastened from Copenhagen to his estates 
in the interior of Zealand, There he found 
much needing investigation and reconstruction. 
Dishonest representativees had for years been 
playing the master; purpose!}^ disordering the 
accounts against the day of reckoning. De- 
spite his youth and tendency to dreaming, Gus- 
tavus Rosen had keen intelligence, and he 
hated deceit, which he found to be rampant. 
So, it became necessary to make a longer 
stay than he had at first intended, to bring 
thorough order into his affairs; and, mean- 
while, he pleased himself by beautifying his 
estate, laying it out to the best advantage, 
and introducing the improvements he knew 
Karin loved best. He even had a deep bed 
sunk to a merry running stream, which, made 
to fall over a sheer precipice, was to be to her 
a recollection of Trollhatta, 

At last came the final day of his exile, and 
on his fleetest horse he galloped back to Copen- 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


79 


hagen. There he was met by the startling in- 
telligence that war was on the point of breaking 
out with Sweden; and that none were allowed 
to leave Denmark. 

Gustavus Rosen left no stone unturned to get 
back to Sweden. He applied to the most in- 
fluential personages for permission. In vain. 
With a shrug of the shoulders, they merely re- 
ferred him to the King’s uncompromising proc- 
lamation, telling him that any attempt on his 
part to evade it would inevitably result in the 
confiscation of his property, if not of a still 
severer forfeit. 

Undismayed, he made the attempt. The 
coast of Sweden, bathed in the golden hues of 
the setting sun, lay so near, so enticingly before 
him. He seemed to hear the roar of Trollhatta, 
to feel Karin’s blue, child-like eyes fixed upon 
him. By dint of promising a heavy bribe he 
induced a fisherman to take him across the 
Sound at midnight. Wellnigh arrived at the 
desired goal, he fell into the hands of a Dan- 
ish cruiser, and was taken back prisoner to 
Copenhagen, suspected of being a spy convey- 
ing information of the Danish war proceedings 
to Sweden. Thus he was detained for weeks 
without the authorities even troubling to find 
out his name. Imprisoned in a dark tower, 
with scarce enough food to keep him alive, it 
was some time before he succeeded in getting a 
petition for an audience conveyed to the hands 
of the King. No sooner had he done so, how- 
ever, than the bolts and bars of his prison flew 


80 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


open. Treated with greatest deference, he was 
begged to forgive the unfortunate mistake 
under which he had been imprisoned ; and a 
letter from the King was presented to him, 
commanding him to repair, next day, to the 
royal castle. 

King Christian the Second of Denmark was 
one of the most extraordinary contradictions 
ever known among princes. His dissolute 
habits had shown themselves at a remarkably 
early age in his love for the beautiful Dyveke 
of Amsterdam, whom he met in Bergen when 
Stadtholder of Norway, and with whom he fell 
in love so madly and passionately that he de- 
fied his father’s anger and endured the hardest 
punishments from him, refusing to give her up. 
His nature was despotic as that of any Oriental 
ruler. Whatever opposed itself to him he fol- 
lowed up with might and cunning until he had 
crushed it. He hated the nobles of Denmark, 
as of Norway, because they refused to bow like 
reeds beneath his hand. Revengeful, malignant 
and cruel to a degree, he was, at the same time, 
courageous and remarkably intelligent. The 
burghers, delighted to see him humble the 
nobles who trod them under their feet, gladly 
gave allegiance to him. They feared him more 
than they loved him ; but reckoned wisely that 
it was better to have one arbitrary ruler over 
them who needed their support than the many 
who, combining together, were strong enough in 
themselves to take no account of the middle 
classes. And, in fact, when, in pursuance of 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


81 


his far-reaching policy, as often happened, he 
mixed among the lower orders, there was not 
a man in Denmark who appeared possessed of 
such taking amiability, honest cordiality or 
fascinating exterior than was Christian the 
Second. The look of his piercing eyes, his 
haughty mien were then entirely changed. 
hTo one had greater command over his feat- 
ures; no one a more terrible facility for conceal- 
ing his thoughts. The smile upon his lips could 
be as unconstrained whether he took the goblet 
from a burgher’s hand to drink his health, drop- 
ping in it the while a gold piece as a token, or 
whether he were handing some powerful noble 
the cup he had caused to be filled with deadly 
poison. 

One bond, however, drew the whole nation to 
him. 

King Christian was a Dane, every inch of 
him, who never swerved for an instant from 
carrying out Denmark’s ancient tradition of 
the subjection of the neighboring kingdom of 
Sweden. The little island shared its ruler’s 
wrath that its powers should be so restricted, 
his majesty so hemmed in. A war, which 
should result in complete mastery over Swe- 
den, called even those who most dreaded and 
detested the king to his standard. 

Soon after he ascended the throne, Christian 
had contracted a marriage with Isabella of 
Spain, sister of Charles the Fifth, Emperor 
of Germany; and it is proof that, despite the 
odium which attaches to his memory, there was 


82 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


something latent in him capable of better devel- 
opment, that through ail the misery and wretch- 
edness of the l^ter years of his life she never 
left him, but remained stanchly by his side 
until her death. The queen of his heart was 
still, however, the beautiful Dyveke, who was 
made to flaunt the queen by living openly in one 
wing of the palace. His policy was guided by 
his mistress’s crafty mother, gi-devant hostess 
of the inn at Bergen, and his malicious con- 
fessor, the former barber’s apprentice, Slaghok. 
It was these two who principally led him to pur- 
sue his ever-increasing system of severe and 
imprudent measures toward the nobles. They 
were his evil stars. His good star, despite all, 
the only one capable of shedding one reflected 
ray of sunshine into Christian’s benighted soul, 
was that singular combination of loveliness, 
sadness and joyousness, the ‘‘dove” of Amster- 
dam. Destitute of envy or ambition, she loved 
in him the man, not the king; ever striving, 
with wise, gentle hand, to free him from the net 
of ruinous policy which her wily mother, Frau 
Sigbritt, had cast around him. Had the wise, 
gentle dove lived longer, the pages of history 
would probably not have been stained with the 
bloody episode of Stockholm. 

But Dyveke died. To this day a mystery 
envelops her death, whether a natural one, or 
a violent one inflicted by the hands of some 
enemy. The common people, who loved her, 
accused the nobles of having poisoned her. 
And Christian, stung to madness by her death. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


83 


lent the accusation willing ear. The weightiest 
suspicions were directed against one Torbon 
Oxe., a near relative of the Lord High Chamber- 
lain of the palace. Thrown into prison, he con- 
fessed upon the rack that he had loved Dyveke 
before the King had known her. Wild with 
rage, Christian had him beheaded and burned ; 
and is said to have scattered the ashes to the 
winds with his own hands. Then he began a 
bloody persecution of the nobles, wherever he 
suspected connivance with Dyveke’ s death. 
Numberless heads fell under the executioner’s 
ax; old Sigbritt ever stirring up afresh his 
vengeance. At length, even the people begin- 
ning to murmur at the wholesale extinction of 
their nobles’ families, she dexterously turned 
the King’s wrath upon Sweden and its aristo- 
crats. The bloody onslaught at Stockholm had 
been decided upon for years before it could be 
carried out. 

Strange that two men of such utterly diverse 
character and intention should yet have met in 
the one thought; Christian the Second and Gus- 
tavus Ericsson. The first determined to destroy 
the nobles, in order to subjugate Sweden; the 
second, greatly as he abhorred the bloody crime 
of the Danish tyrant, recognized that the 
ardently longed-for independence of his father- 
land was only to be achieved by the absolute 
downfall of the power of the Swedish magnates, 
who jealously held back, and were themselves 
the first to fight against any one who endeavored 
to raise up Sweden. 


84 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Gustavus Yasa knew that the massacre of 
the nobles in Stockholm was not alone the 
signal, but the very condition of Sweden’s 
freedom from Danish tyranny. 

And Christian the Second, from the time of 
Dyveke’s death, had grown more morose, merci- 
less, and secret than ever. His good star had 
gone out. Gloomily brooding, he sat alone in 
his palace, drawing up, from day to day, more 
and more ghastly, blood - curdling plans of 
action. 

In this mood Gustavus Rosen’s petition for 
release from his imprisonment found him. 
Christian possessed many attributes of a great 
statesman. He knew the personal affairs of 
every one of his subjects of any note, down 
to the most trivial particulars, and could tell 
at a glance how and where to gain his advan- 
tage. Affably he invited the youth to give 
him the short history of his life hitherto; lis- 
tened with winning condescension to every de- 
tail; smiled, with his own charm of manner, 
when Rosen spoke of Karin Stenbock’s exceed- 
ing loveliness. Before he had finished, the dis- 
sonance in the youth’s nature lay clearly open 
before him, and he had grasped the advantage 
to be derived from it. Refusing his consent to 
Rosen’s immediate return to Sweden, he yet 
dismissed him with every sign of royal favor; 
promising him that, in a few weeks, he should 
cross the Sound in the ro5^al retinue, and giving 
him his kingly word that, should Frau Brita 
Stenbock have used the period of his u^avoid- 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


85 


able detention to his disadvantage, he, the king 
himself, would secure his marriage with her 
lovely daughter. For one short second there 
was a curious gleam in Christian’s eyes during 
this portion of their conference; then, to the 
astonishment of his suite in attendance, him- 
self conducting the young man to the door of 
the apartment in which the audience had taken 
place, he shook hands with him, dismissing him 
with gracious gesture. 

Gustavus Rosen would not have been only 
nineteen, nor have been brought up under 
Brita Btenbock’s rigid rule, had he not from 
that hour been under the fascination of the 
King of Denmark. His spirit was even more 
noble than the name he bore ; he could not have 
wronged the lowest serf. Was not the King of 
like mind? 

Christian’s acts of vengeance had been com- 
mitted before his time. He had barely even 
heard of them; and, in the universal enthusi- 
asm over the coming war with Sweden, even 
their memory had wellnigh escaped the minds 
of the people about him. There was but a 
shadowy passing feeling within him at times 
that Karin was a Swede; but then what mat- 
tered the accident of race between them ; how 
could it interfere with their love? Even with 
him the accident of birth had made him a 
Swede, yet the return of the feelings of his 
boyhood certified to him that Denmark was 
his country; and so it would become hers, when 
once she learned to know it, as it had been his 


86 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


own dear mother’s, and that of the lovely Queen 
Dagmar. For so their sweet images ever blended 
together in his heart. 

Withal he had perforce to submit in one mat- 
ter, and that sorely against his will. Weeks 
grew into months, and yet only in his dreams 
was the narrow strip of water crossed that sep- 
arated him from his love; and powerless as he 
w^as to realize his dreams, so did he find himself 
equally powerless to transmit any message to 
her to still her fears at his lengthened absence. 
Then, at last. King Christian and his army be- 
gan to advance; and Gustav us Rosen received 
command to keep in the King’s vicinity. He 
had never taken up arms against the land of 
his fathers, nor did the crafty king in words ex- 
press any v/ish that he should do so. He mere- 
ly had him kept in camp, where every mark of 
respectful distinction was paid him. Still, Gus- 
tavus felt that he was watched on all sides, and 
that every attempt on his part to reach Castle 
Torpa without Christian’s consent would fail, 
as had done his attempt to cross the Sound. 
Uninterested, vainly striving to battle with his 
vehement impatience, he accompanied the army; 
was witness to the bloody battle of Bogesund, 
in which the brave Sten Sture fell and Sweden 
became a prey to the Danish conqueror; yet did 
not realize the full meaning of that ill-fated 
day. 

That evening, in the moonlight, the King 
came across him, leaning mute and despairing 
against the trunk of a tree. Christian was clad 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


87 


cap-a-pie in iron armor. His impetuosity had 
largely helped to carry the day. Slapping the 
dreamer on the shoulder, he exclaimed, with 
somber irony: 

“If I were the beloved of the Pose of Troll- 
hatta I would even now saddle my steed and be 
off to her, Gustavus Rosen. Greet her, and also 
Brita Stenbock, her mother, from me. If she be 
not satisfied with her son-in-law, bring her to 
me, in November, to my capital of Stockholm. 
I shall know a remedy. You I expect there 
on the first of November. You understand 
me?’’ 

Five minutes later Rosen was in the saddle, 
riding hard all night until dawn dispelled the 
darkness. Then, allowing himself a few hours’ 
rest, more for sake of his horse than himself, he 
dispatched a messenger, according to agreement, 
to Torpa, to inform Karin, and her only, of the 
time of his coming. It was to be early in the 
afternoon, and punctually he timed his arrival. 
Now he caught sight of the tall elms that shaded 
the castle and that used to make his room so 
dark and gloomy. Leaving them to the right, 
he spurred his horse on. Another light was 
shed upon them now than formerly; his heart 
no longer beat timidly at sight of them in dread 
of his aunt’s stern voice. ' 

Gustavus Rosen smiled to himself as he 
thought how things had changed; the while 
his heart was beating perhaps more violently, 
more anxiously, more nervously than ever. 
Ever nearer roared the Falls of Trolihatta, 


88 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


sending him its thunder of welcome. He felt 
as though it were but yesterday that he had 
ridden away — as though it were but a minute 
ago, and that he had but to turn and see Karin 
standing on the very same spot where she had 
kissed him for the last time, as she said : 

“My heart will be counting each drop of Troll- 
ha tta, and each one will be an eternity to me — ” 

At that moment had any one, calling out 
“Bogesund” to him, asked him which side 
won the battle, he would have paid no heed, 
would hardly have known. 

How familiar was every step of the way to 
him! That corner turned, a minute longer — 
half a minute — and he would hold her in his 
arms. 

At last! Here was the spot, and, with glow- 
ing face, he sprang from the saddle. His eyes, 
with feverish haste, scanned the place. Could 
he have been mistaken? Had memory deceived 
him, and was it some other part when Karin, 
struggling with her tears, had said : 

“Come when you will, I will be waiting by 
Troll ha tta?” 

Ko. Impossible! Every fir-tree, every stone, 
indelibly fixed in his memory, was there. She 
must be here — hidden, perhaps, to try his 
patience; and he hastened down the slope, 
looking behind every rock, searching round 
every bush. Thus they had played as chil- 
dren, and he knew every hiding-place from 
out which, as he came near, the glistening, 
golden hair had so often betrayed her. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


89 


In vain! He had searched everywhere; and 
now began calling her, loudly, imploringly, by 
name. The roar of the cataract deadened the 
call: “Karin — Karin!” Gradually it struck 
him that the messenger must have given her 
a wrong time for his coming — she was not ex- 
pecting him yet; and he ascended the hill from 
whence he could look over to Torpa, ready, as 
soon as he perceived her, to conceal himself and 
steal back to await her at the dear try sting 
place, so rich in memories to them. 

Gustav us Rosen waited long. He waited un- 
til dusk set in and flocks of crows in noisy num- 
bers swept croaking over the Trollhatta, and, 
shadowy, disappeared in the uncertain light. 
Then, silently mounting his horse, he rode back 
to Torpa with beating heart, a thousand thoughts 
surging in his brain. Had his messenger not 
reached? Could Karin — and here his heart 
beat still more anxiously — could Karin be ill, 
and so prevented? Had Brita Stenbock — ? 

He spurred his horse until the noble creature, 
unaccustomed to such cruel treatment, flew like 
an arrow over the ground. In a few minutes- 
he had reached the castle, and, springing from 
his horse, had flown up the terrace steps. A 
maid met him : 

“Where is Karin?” he asked, breathlessly. 
“Is she ill?” 

Wonderingly, she answered: “Ko, our young 
lady is quite well, and is waiting anxiously for 
you, sir.” 

Breathing again, he tore open the door of the 


90 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


sitting-room and rushed in. Karin came hur- 
riedl}?- toward him. 

“Gustavus, Gustavus!” she cried, excitedly. 
‘‘Is it true? Oh, say no! Is it true that Sten 
Sture has fallen?” 

Her cheeks were burning, her wide-open eyes 
were fixed anxiously upon his face. 

“Karin,” stammered he, taking her hand, 
“did you not know that I was coming? Where 
were you? Since noon I have awaited you at 
Trollhatta! ” 

She, looking about her as if waking, fell, 
weeping impetuously, upon his neck. 

“Oh, Gustavus, all is lost! ” she moaned. 

He, unthinking, made answer: “All is won. 
Are we not together again?” and covered her 
mouth with kisses. 

She, struggling herself free from him, looked 
reproachfully at him. 

“Six hours you have been here, yet only now 
bring us the news?” 

“Six hours I was waiting there for you. Did 
you not receive my message?” he returned, per- 
plexed. 

“Is this a time to be thinking of childish 
things?” she asked, almost passionately. “How 
was I to imagine that you would ride past 
Torpa?” she continued more gently. 

“You had promised. Were the whole world 
coming to an end I would have gone, Karin,” 
he said, in a low voice. “Has our love for 
each other become child’s play, Karin?” His 
voice broke into sobs. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


91 


Karin, bending hurriedly toward him, kissed 
away the tears welling up to his eyes. 

“Poor Gustavus,’’ said she, tenderly. “I 
forgot what your suffering must have been 
in the Danish tyrant’s imprisonment.” 

Of course, he had been imprisoned, and in 
the excitement and confusion of the battle of 
Bogesund had effected his escape! That was 
the general belief; nor did Rosen’s silence on 
the subject lead them to doubt it. He was as 
if dazed. The excited talk of the stirring events 
taking place went on about him without his 
being able to trace their connection. Sometimes 
he would try to pull himself together, to enter 
into what was passing around him; then again 
he would quickly lose the thread, his sole sen- 
sation that of unspeakable sadness and weari- 
ness. All he saw was that Karin’s cheeks 
would grow pale, then glow with feverish ex- 
citement, as on the day of his return. In her 
changes of color, in the expression of her eyes, 
did he read what was going on in the outer 
world. She had grown vehement, passionate, 
as she had never been before. Passionate in 
her movements when any message from Calmar 
or Stockholm, still standing out against the 
Danes, arrived; passionate, too, in her love, 
when she embraced her lover and her lips 
sought his for a kiss. 

She was no longer the gentle, consoling play- 
mate of his recollection; she was the lovely 
Maid of the North, such as the fancy of ancient 
bards had portrayed Freya; as the poets of 


92 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


their own times had embodied the Protecting 
Goddess of Sweden. And in that wondrous 
semblance lived two souls, looking out into the 
world with their deep, far-seeing eyes. The 
one, with eyes yearning and radiant, unfath- 
omable as the blue of the heavens, mysterious 
as a summer noon, loved Gustavus Rosen. The 
other, gazing — past her lover’s woe-struck face — 
with restless, trembling look into the far dis- 
tance, fixed upon an invisible goal, to which 
she was drawn by an irresistible, irrefutable 
force, a force which drowned all voices near 
her, as did the loud, falling waters of Troll- 
hatta. 

Karin Stenbock’s first question was not had 
her father been wounded at Bogesund; but had 
Sten Sture fallen. 

That day, which had sealed the fate of Sweden, 
had witnessed a terrible event, fated to have sad 
consequences for Torpa, but which, sad as they 
were, were scarce heeded in those stirring events 
of history where none could stop to think of 
individual interests. The messenger who had 
announced the coming of Gustavus had also 
brought the first tidings to Torpa of the re- 
sult of the battle; on hearing which, Brita 
Stenbock had rushed forth, distracted, no one 
knew whither. Through storm and rain she 
had wandered on, in the direction of Bogesund. 
She was found some seventy miles from Torpa, 
lying unconscious on the ground, wet to the 
skin, her clothes ragged and torn. Thus she 
was brought home. For weeks she lay uncon- 


KAKIN OF SWEDEN. 


93 


scious, between life and death. When con- 
sciousness at last returned she was found to be 
stone blind. What mattered the loss of a wo- 
man’s sight compared with the fate of Sweden? 
Karin, weeping at her mother’s bedside, would 
be called away to receive a message from Stock- 
holm. The weight of passing events had steadied 
the girl beyond her years. Many a separate 
thread of opposition to the conquering force, 
scattered among rock and lake, ran through 
her hands. Her father was taking part in the 
defense of Stockholm, and hardly a day passed 
on which some secret message or commission 
did not reach his wife at Torpa, whose place 
had now to be filled by her daughter, scarce 
eighteen years of age. Thus Brita Stenbock 
must often in her loneliness and blindness have 
been confided to the care of one of the maids, 
had there not been some one at Torpa ready 
to sit by her bedside and divine her every wish 
— Gustavus Rosen. 

He had never loved his aunt; yet the sight of 
her, blind and helpless as she now was, made 
on no one else so deep an impression, not even on 
Karin. Brita Stenbock was a hard woman. She 
made no complaints, no lamentations over her 
lost sight; but equally little did she thank the 
young man who watched by her for days and 
nights, and took so patiently her imperious 
moods, and the sharp words with which she 
would overwhelm him when he was able to 
give no tidings of affairs in Stockholm, and 
was compelled to refer to Karin. To Gustavus 


94 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Kosen her loss of sight was more painful than 
the loss of Sweden’s freedom ; more painful even 
than to herself. To him she was no longer the 
stern, harsh-tempered aunt to whose will he had 
perforce to yield; but Karin’s mother^ — whose 
loveliness she was no longer able to safeguard. 
But if she gave him no thanks for his tender 
care and unwearying solicitude, Karin felt it 
twofold ; and he met many a radiant, grateful 
glance from her blue eyes, as, lovingly pressing 
his head between her two ha,nds, she would 
whisper : 

“How good you are, Gustavus.” 

That, however, was only when no bad news 
had come from the seat of war. At such times 
Karin had neither eyes nor ears for her betrothed ; 
her eyes then were blind as her mother’s to all 
around her. As if possessed by some mysterious 
power, she would stand, like that ancient bard 
who, tradition tells, stood on the brink of Troll- 
hatta, and was drawn on by its demoniac power 
until he sprang unresisting into its foaming gulf. 
How often in her childhood’s days had she stood 
beside Trollhatta, looking down on to the very 
place marked out by tradition as where it had 
occurred, without being able to understand the 
legend. One evening in the twilight, sitting 
with Rosen, happy, and only thinking of their 
love, as of old, he smilingly told her that she re- 
minded him sometimes of that ancient bard, and 
likened the troubles of their fatherland to the 
rushing Falls of Trollhatta tearing her from his 
embrace. But, he added, he could afford to 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


95 


laugh, because even from those darb depths 
he was ever able to raise her in his arms 
again. 

“What is the matter, Karin?” he exclaimed 
in sudden fear. 

He had felt how she had shuddered as he 
spoke, and had pressed more closely to him, 
as she hid her head upon his breast. Looking 
up at him with a strange expression, she kissed 
him, as she softly said : 

“Poor Gustavus, do not grow weary. Oh, if 
you were to grow weary and the current to seize 
me so that it was too late, and you were unable 
to raise me any more — ” 

She shuddered once more, as she fell back 
into his arms again. 

“1^0 not forsake your Karin,” she whispered. 
“I love you so dearly' — so dearly — ” 

Then came the day of the fall of Stockholm. 

The Danish navy had been insuperable; the 
besieged, taking flight inland, scattered to north 
and south. Gustavus Steiibock, too, returned 
to Torpa. Sweden was lost; it behooved every 
man to look to his own safety. 

Dark days lay over Sweden; perhaps, more 
than all, over Torpa; although the summer of 
1520 was one of exceptional length and beauty, 
even lasting into late autumn. Still, the ex- 
pected retribution came not. The new King 
seemed to treat all his subjects with like pa- 
ternal affection and clemency ; to remember their 
past resistance to his will and arms no longer; 
to have forgiven and forgotten all. Couched in 


98 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


most conciliatory terms, he issued invitations to 
the whole nobility of the land, without distinc- 
tion as to whether they had fought for or against 
him, to attend his solemn coronation at the com- 
mencement of November in Stockholm. 

To Gustavus Rosen alone those dark days 
were happy ones. 

Karin seemed as though, after some long, de- 
lirious illness, to have come back again to life, 
and spirits, and love. Leaning upon her be- 
trothed’s arm, she wandered once more over 
mountains and through forests, as when they 
were children. She smiled once more, and his 
heart grew light and free from care. His world 
was in her eyes, from which all trace of anxious 
pre-occupation had departed; and she seemed 
never to have had room in her heart for aught 
else than the old steadfast, newly discovered, 
idealized love cf their childhood’s days. ,Now 
he breathed impassioned words to her, and she, 
blushing and happy beyond words, would nestle 
in his arms. Even Gustavus Stenbock, despite 
the dark days without, rejoiced in the young 
people’s happiness. 

Brita Stenbock alone remained as icy to- 
ward Rosen as heretofore, constantly finding 
new excuses to retard the fixing of her daugh- 
ter’s wedding-day. At length, even she could 
find no more plausible reasons for the postpone- 
ment, and the wedding was irrevocably fixed 
for December, and the happy couple began se- 
cretly counting the days to the fulfillment of 
their hopes. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


97 


Then came to Gustavus Stenbock the invita- 
tion — to Rosen the command — to attend King 
Christian’s coronation in Stockholm. 

The parting was bitter, more tearful on 
Karin’s part than the former one had been. 
It could but be short, yet so they had thought 
on the previous occasion. It was imperative; 
Stenbock himself compelling his future son-in- 
law to go, foreseeing the most serious conse- 
quences to him if he failed to appear. He 
himself was prevented attending the royal 
summons by a wound in the knee, which 
made it impossible for him to undertake the 
difficult journey in winter. He, as little as the 
other invited guests, with the exception of 
Gustavus Ericsson, had any thought of dan- 
ger; but he held it to be dishonorable to at- 
tend the court of the conqueror, against whom 
he had so recently fought. The very day on 
which Karin, without the aid of Folkung’s 
strong arm, would have been sucked into the 
whirlpool of the Trollhatta, Stenbock had 
changed his mind. Every one of the nobles 
had obeyed the King’s command, a^nd, princi- 
pally on his children’s account, he feared, use- 
lessly, to arouse the royal anger against them 
by his absence. Without telling his change of 
plan to his wife — of whose violent opposition 
he was certain — he started for Stockholm. 

By Lake Wetter he came upon Rosen return- 
ing .from the capital. In greatest agitation, 
horrified to the last degree at the bloody deed 
of which he had been witness, Rosen rode back 


98 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


with him to Torpa. His indignation excited 
him to more violent speech than he had ever 
before uttered; seeming as though he felt the 
full force of the treachery and crime that had 
been perpetrated upon Sweden. And maybe 
he was on the road to do so; maybe an inner 
voice was telling him that every honest heart 
must tear itself from fair childish dreams when 
a whole country — a nation, his Denmark — could 
glory in the awful treachery of a Ravage king 
against hundreds of the noblest of another race. 
Perhaps the youth was never more disposed than 
that night to forget Gerda Rosen and the lovely 
Queen Dagrnar; the beech woods of Zealand and 
the sunny dreams of his childhood’s days; and 
to understand that other soul, those other eyes 
of Karin Stenbock. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


99 


CHAPTER III. 

Now all lay dead and ice-bound, from the 
Baltic to the Kjols of the North. So sunless 
was it that when that luminary appeared, to 
disappear as quickly as it came, it was joyless, 
colorless, spiritless. Brita Stenbock was the best 
off. She could not see it; but she heard the more 
acutely, and her ear told what her eye failed to 
see. 

Gustavus Rosen had not forgotten his mother 
and the lovely Dagmar since that night. For 
one short instant he had stood, as it were, upon 
a tottering cliff, from whence the least breath of 
wind must have cast him into the depths. The 
storm which had burst over Castle Torpa had 
dragged him back. The recollection of the 
bloody massacre he had witnessed in Stockholm 
had been wiped from his memory. 

He did not tell himself so; he did not think 
about it; yet it was so. Ever since — to prevent 
Karin’s chamber from being desecrated by the 
entrance of the search party — he, braving the 
wrath of the King and the halberds of his 
soldiers, with a smile had stood on the thresh- 
hold he had not passed for years, his heart had 
seemed stunned within him. A dumb, intoler- 
able anguish filled his breast. He cherished no 


100 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


doubt of his beloved; in his inmost soul he re- 
proached her with no breach of faith; but that 
she could have acted thus, that it could have 
been possible to her secretly to have put herself 
in a position which must invest her pure image 
with the breath of suspicion, was, to him un- 
speakably painful. More bitterly than ever did 
he feel that there was a something, to him, an 
impalpable shadow, v/hich had grown to gigan- 
tic proportions in Karin’s soul, threatening to 
separate them still further and further. 

As little as he understood this something thus 
threatening to come between them, as little did 
Karin, in her unsuspecting innocence, under- 
stand her lover’s grief at the circumstance of 
which he had been the accidental witness. 
What she had done appeared to her so natural; 
necessity had so imperatively demanded it of 
her, that she must have acted thus even had she 
been aware of the suspicion which it would en- 
gender. But she was but eighteen, her soul as 
pure as the snowy foam of the Trollhatta; and 
all frankly, now that she was no longer bound 
to silence, did she gi ye her lover the particulars 
of the events of the evening of his home-coming. 
Gustavus Folkung had not been the first fugitive 
who had sought shelter in Castle Torpa; but on 
other occasions the fugitives had sought the pro- 
tection of the lord of the castle. 

It was the first time that Karin had been 
placed in a position necessitating discretion and 
judgment. Without arriere pensee Karin ‘told 
how never a fugitive had made such impression 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


101 


upon her as had this one; it had almost seemed 
as though he commanded and she must obey. 

Rosen turned pale as she spoke. For an in- 
stant he felt he must vehemently break into her 
speech to ease his oppressed heart; but, com- 
manding himself, he listened in silence as 
Karin, continuing, told him of her agony 
when he first proposed to look into her room, 
she having given Folkung her promise to betray 
him to no one; and how at last, feeling that, 
come what might, she must dare it, she had 
hurried through the midst of the Danish sol- 
diers to reach the other door of her room. 

“For I was so afraid that in your surprise, 
or xTom want of thought, you might betray his 
presence, Gustavus, before I could warn you. 
We did hear you call after us, in the dark pas- 
sage, ‘This way — this way! ’ Why did you do 
that?” 

Her blue eyes looked up questioningly at him 
with such expression of unspeakable innocence. 
His face crimsoned like that of a criminal ; in 
confusion, seizing both her hands and covering 
them with kisses, he stammered : 

“Forgive me, Karin. I was in such excite- 
ment from all that had happened in Stockholm, 
and was happening here. I thought — I fancied 
— I might put them on a wrong scent — ” 

Shaking her head, her eyes still raised to his, 
she said: 

“How apt you men, who call yourselves the 
stronger sex, are to lose your heads at such 
times, and to do the most silly things; for, in- 


102 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


stead of putting the Danes on the wrong scent, 
you were bringing them direct upon us. A 
minute more and it would have been too late.’’ 
She was silent for a moment in thought. “Why 
did you come along that passage at all?” she 
asked. 

The crimson on the young man’s face changed 
its hue, his eyes .flashed’ with somber light. 

“Your room, your bed, gave me the clew, 
Karin. When I recall the moment I found 
that clew — ” with difficulty he compelled him- 
self to stop, and turned away his head. 

“Then you did know that I was secreting 
some one,” she returned, reproachfully, “and 
should have been doubly careful, for your 
thoughtlessness might have exposed me to 
gravest suspicion.” 

Involuntarily Gustavus Rosen looked once 
more full into his betrothed’s eyes as she said 
these words. Their expression was as reproach- 
ful as had been her voice; but seeing his look of 
pain, it gave place so instantly to the accustomed 
expression of implicit, happy love, that, stag- 
gered, conquered by it, he fell at her feet, 
stammering: 

“Oh, forgive me, Karin — forgive me! ” 

She knew not what she must forgive him. 
A whole chasm lay between the suspicion of 
which she had spoken, to which his thought- 
lessness might have exposed her,, and between 
that suspicion for which his silent tears, as 
they fell upon her hand, pleaded forgiveness. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


103 


She merely repeated, as upon that evening: 
“You are so strange, Gustavus — ” 

She should have said: “Jealousy is so 
strange. ’ ’ 

That two-headed monster whose hue is ever 
changing from joy to despair, from guilt to 
repentance; which, like an evil spirit, once 
conjured up from the darkness, is never more 
to be exorcised; which, like a fever, ever comes 
back to its prey, dazzling his sight, darkening 
his brain, convulsing and throwing him pros; 
trate to the ground. Jealousy can cause the 
flutter of a leaf to chase away its victim’s sleep, 
leaving him tortured with shadows, which, in 
his saner moments, he knows to be but the 
creation of his arch enemy, but which now 
wrestles and battles with him, and conquers 
him; to which, when the hour of temptation 
again recurs, he will fall as ready a victim. 

Folkung’s name never again crossed Rosen’s 
lips; but it was indelibly carved upon his heart. 
December was long past, and with it the day 
fixed for the wedding, without .any one bring- 
ing it to mind. The clouds hung too heavily 
over Sweden to allow of any opposition to 
Brita Stenbock’s curt remark that this was 
no time for rejoicings. 

Winter went its monotonous way at Castle 
Tor pa. No human footprint on the deep snow 
showed any communication between it and the 
outer world ; the croaking of the ravens were the 
only living sounds without the walls of the great, 
solitary building. The severe, long-protracted 


104 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


frost tamed evea them iato frequenting the neigh- 
borhood of the kitchen, to peck the crumbs almost 
from the maids’ hands; or to wait for hours out- 
side her window, until Karin, compassionating 
their starving condition, would scatter food to 
them like pigeons. Among them were small, 
graceful jackdaws, with their shining black 
feathers, which, trustful and fearless, would 
fly upon her shoulders, and peck the seeds 
from her hands. They it was who must have 
brought her tidings from the world without; 
for she always knew exactly what was taking 
place, although no human being came to the 
house. She knew all about the rising among 
the Dalecarlians; the “vale men,” into whose 
rugged wastes Gustavus Vasa had fled. As 
accurately, too, did she know the list of those 
who, having escaped the bloody massacre cf 
Stockholm, had been in hiding throughout the 
length and breadth of Sweden, and who, tracked 
by Christian’s soldiers, had subsequently been 
dragged to execution. E^en children had not 
been spared. In Joukoping, a noble of the 
house of Ribbing, and his two little sons, had 
been beheaded in presence of the King. The 
eldest of them was eight years old, and as the 
ax did its ghastly work, his blood besprinkled 
the dress of his little flve-year-old brother, who, 
frightened, said, anxiously: “Oh, Mr. Execu- 
tioner, please do not soil my clothes, or mamma 
will scold me!” And the executioner, throw- 
ing down his ax, refused to kill the little fel- 
low. But King Christian, calling up another, 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


105 


ordered both the child and the compassionate ex- 
ecutioner to be then and there beheaded. 

All these things were known in Torpa, yet 
Brita Stenbock made no comment; no expression 
of indignation crossed her lips. It was an evi- 
dent fact, become more apparent day by day, 
that the house of Stenbock had made peace with 
the newly-crowned King of Sweden. It was 
a prudent step — most prudent; for among the 
few remaining noble families it took a promi- 
nent position, and might, by favor of the ruler, 
aspire to the highest offices under him. Angry 
and contemptuous were the secret curses that 
went from mouth to mouth at their treachery 
to the fatherland; nay, it was even whispered 
that, upon Christian’s approaching return to 
Denmark, Stenbock had already been chosen by 
him as Stadtholder of Sweden. There were still 
many who did not believe it, and vehemently 
contested it; but even they were abruptly 
silenced when the news spread that the King, 
on his journey, would, by Stenbock’s invita- 
tion, visit Castle Torpa, and by his presence add 
brilliancy to the marriage of Karin Stenbock 
with Gustavus Rosen. 

The report was a true one. Brita Stenbock 
herself had desired that her nephew should re- 
quest the King to show this mark of favor, and 
joyously had he obeyed the command of his 
stern aunt. 

April was breathing the first mild breezes 
from the south when Gustavus Rosen set 
out to brave the impassable journey to Stock- 


106 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


holm. Thence he dispatched a messenger an- 
nouncing the King’s consent, and that, on the 
1st of May, he would arrive; that he (Rosen), 
however, would be unable to return before that 
date, it being the King’s pleasure that he should 
remain with him until then, to accompany him 
on the way. 

April is by no means the usual harbinger of 
spring in Sweden. Snow yet lay thickly on the 
ground round Torpa; jackdaws still waited ex- 
pectantly on Karin’s window-sill, and, flying 
on to her shoulders, whispered into her ear 
the secret tidings they had gathered from with- 
out. 

Sometimes, startled by sudden noises, they 
would whirr away. And there were many 
noises, of different kinds, to be heard in the 
ancient building which had lain so silent 
through the winter. Hammers resounded the 
whole day long, and countless hands were in- 
cessantly busied in fitting preparation for the 
royal guest, and the festivities which were to 
grace his presence. The apartments- designed 
for the King and his suite were in the left wing 
of the castle; in the center one of them, a vast 
hall, was erected the altar. The whole castle, 
according to the custom of northern winter 
decoration, was adorned with fur boughs and 
mistletoe. Thus, from morn to night, reigned 
incessant noise and hurrying to and fro. Brita 
Stenbock’s sightless eyes saw and ordered every- 
thing, while Karin’s living ones gleamed with 
a strange light as she carried out her mother’s 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


1©7 

directions. It was singular but unmistakable; 
that radiant gleam had little or nothing to do 
with the altar that A^as being erected in the 
. vast hall. It proceeded from those other eyes 
of Karin Stenbock; the eyes dreaded, but not 
understood, by her bridegroom. 

Only when night came on did stir and bustle 
cease in the solitary castle. Then the workmen 
betook themselves to their rest in the quarters 
provided for them in the out- buildings. Kone 
of them slept in the castle. As soon as they had 
crossed the courtyard, Stenbjck himself would 
shut the outer door and draw the heavy oaken 
bolts. Then until break of day no one had in- 
gress, and not a sound more was to be heard 
from outside throughout the spacious building. 
Only within, now and again, were to be heard 
mysterious sounds as though Karin’s jackdaws 
had effected an entrance, and under protection of 
the darkness were fluttering with cautious wing 
up the back staircase and along the long, unlit 
passages. 


108 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


CHAPTER IV. 

It was still early morning of the 1st of May 
when a brilliant cortege crossed the Wetter 
Lake, but yesterday freed from the remaining 
winter ice by the thawing of the Motala River, 
carrying it down to the Baltic. Many a spec- 
tator, gazing upon the flotilla so gayly dressed 
with flags, in the middle of which towered the 
richly decorated royal yacht, may have secretly 
cherished other wishes than those their timid 
lips expressed as the cortege, landing, proceeded 
westward along the broad roads upon which the 
peasants of the neighborhood had been for weeks 
employed, day and night, to render them suit- 
able for the occasion. Away in Dalecarlia, per- 
haps there might have been lips more ready with 
curses, and Christian the Second, despite his 
numerous suite, would not have ridden so 
calmly past the broad-shouldered sons of the 
country, any one of whom, drawing his knife, 
might have driven it straight into the King’s 
heart. But here there was nothing of that kind 
to fear. True, it was the 1st of May, but Swe- 
den still lay bound and numbed under the iron 
hand of winter. 

With looks as gloomy and icy as a winter’s 
day rode Christian through the pale light of the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


109 


May sun, whose chill gleam mocked the name 
men gave the month begun on that day. The 
noble horse upon which the King rode was jet 
black from head to tail, save for its rich crim- 
son caparisons, which made a glow of color 
like blood upon some dark floor, and for the 
snow-white star on its forehead, which re- 
sembled the white of the King’s eyes, under 
his knitted brows, as ever and anon he glanced 
among the groups of people assembled by the 
wayside. His look had grown more frigid than 
ever since that night in Stockholm, and deep- 
lined furrows lay upon his forehead. A deadly 
gleam shot from those cruel eyes where he did 
not perceive terror-stricken, abject fear; it was 
plain that upon the merest fall of the royal eye- 
lash depended the movement of the blood- 
stained ax, borne unsheathed by the savage 
“sponsor” of the King, who, following in his, 
suite, bore it truculently upon his shoulder. 

Perhaps the only one unobservant of all this 
was Gustavus Rosen. To him the May sun 
shone as warmly and brilliantly as in midsum- 
mer. The mist of springtide in his eyes hid 
from him the desolate landscape; he saw noth 
ing but eagerness and loyal interest in the looks 
with which the spectators gazed upon the pro- 
cession. By command of the King he rode on 
his Majesty’s left; his horse prancing so joy- 
ously under him he could scarce hold him in. 
Christian was silent, as he had ever been; a 
silence which had increased upon him since his 
oppression of Sweden. Kow and then he would 


110 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


utter some curt word, which Rosen, sunk in his 
smiling, impatient dreams, did not always hear; 
nor did the King, in his morose brooding, await 
the answer. The house he was about to honor 
on his progress to Denmark was of no little im- 
portance in his schemes. In the person of Sten- 
bock the whole remaining nobility of Sweden, 
now in terrified hiding, did him homage, at the 
same time that it bound Rosen fast to his inter- 
ests. They were now riding over Falkoping- 
feld; the King rose in his stirrups to survey the 
scene. “We have managed matters better than 
Madame Semiramis, our royal grandmother,” 
he suddenly exclaimed, in a sharp voice: “Queen 
Margaret was no agriculturist; she forgot that 
in order to make virgin soil fertile the stumps 
must be rooted out and the land well dunged. 
Had she done so then, the fair daughters of the 
land would have loved us better and have found 
us pleasanter to the eye. Or are you of opinion 
that in consideration of the office we have taken 
upon ourselves, the Rose of Trollhatta will be 
disposed to overlook our years, and bid us a 
loving welcome, Rosen?” 

With a short laugh and with the rapidity 
of lightning, Christian’s eye scanned his com- 
panion’s face, who was searching in vain for 
an answer. But ere he had found one, the 
King resumed: “Here lie the bones hewn down 
by your and my brave forefathers, Rosen; may- 
be my horse’s hoof is even now trampling down 
the shrewd skull of one of your ancestors, who 
was fool enough to suffer it to be cleft in twain 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


Ill 


for such poor stuff ks Sweden. We are wiser, 
Rosea; we enter upon no Calmarian Union for 
which flesh and blood had first to prepare the 
ground. We are about to celebrate a union 
which shall propagate flesh and blood. We 
will ride on faster; the sun is already about 
to set, and the Rose of Trollhatta awaits us.” 

His Majesty of Sweden, Norway and Den- 
mark, King Christian the Second, was in a 
strange mood to-day, such as he had not dis- 
played since his coronation day in Stockholm. 
Those members of his suite nearest to him ex- 
changed furtive glances; there was something 
weird in his laugh, like the lurid glare of the 
sun before a devastating storm. Then, all put- 
ting spurs to their horses, were fain to follow 
the King’s black horse, as it tore in mad speed 
over the field of Falkoping. 

It was already dusk, and the Castle of Torpa 
was ablaze with the light of torches and lamps 
when the royal bridal procession arrived. The 
lord of the castle stood bareheaded awaiting his 
august guest at the entrance. From behind the 
curtains of a room on the first floor Karin Sten- 
bock was looking out. Her heart was beating 
quickly, her bosom heaving. It was with the 
eyes Gustavus Rosen dreaded that she scanned 
the royal cortege. She was not seeking her lover’s 
face; her look did not rest upon him even when 
she did see him, but wandered hastily past him 
to the numerous horsemen who had already filled 
the courtyard, and were still crowding in be- 
hind, their halberds flashing in the twilight. 


112 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Karin’s lips murmured the numbers, and her 
cheeks grew white; staggering, she clutched so 
wildly at the window curtains that they almost 
gave way. Then, silently hurrying away, she 
disappeared. 

Without, Gustavus Stenbock held the King’s 
stirrup for him to dismount. Christian, throw- 
ing a hasty glance over the ancient, long-lying 
building, now illuminated bright as day, con- 
descendingly held out his hand to his host. For 
one instant it was as if Stenbock was seized by 
the same sudden weakness which had overtaken 
his daughter. Gazing fixedly at the royal hand 
without taking it, he raised his own to wipe the 
cold sweat from his brow. Christian, observing 
it, knitted his brows ominously. 

“You invited us already in the autumn to 
visit you, Stenbock. Our captain duly deliv- 
ered your invitation to us,” he said, with a 
nuance of disdain only understood by his host. 
“True, you did not obey our command to 
honor us with your presence in Stockholm; 
but we are aware that circumstances pre- 
vented you, and you perceive that we bear 
you no ill-will for the omission, but have 
deigned to become your guest to-day, and 
merely expect from you a fitting welcome.” 

There must have been something in these 
words which restored to Stenbock his failing 
powers; for now, taking the King’s still out- 
stretched hand, he uttered, in a firm voice: 

“Welcome, sire!” 

The King ascended the carpeted steps, side by 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


113 


side with his host. His guards pressed close 
after him, but upon the fifth step Christian 
turned. 

“The King of Sweden is secure in Grustavus 
Stenbock’s house,” said he, “and needs no guard. 
Select twelve knights to accompany us. Captain 
Torben; the remainder may seek, their quarters 
for the night. Come, Stenbock, we are fain to 
see this Rose whom, to-morrow, we are to give 
into Rosen’s keeping.” 

And again King Christian laughed. At his 
first words Stenbock had again turned whiter 
than the wall against which he stood, and, 
stumbling, he almost fell back upon the knights 
behind. Kow he again advanced with his guest 
and proceeded to lead him, with his retinue, into 
the apartments in the left wing of the castle 
where Brita Stenbock awaited them, standing 
erect in the center of the first, to bid the King 
welcome. 

“Do I stand in presence of the King of Swe- 
den?” she asked, in a clear voice. 

Stenbock assented. 

For the first time Christian’s immovable face 
expressed surprise. He knew himself to be 
standing before the woman who was Den- 
mark’s bitterest enemy, whom he had always 
believed would rather bow her head upon the 
block than before him. A passing ray of real 
satisfaction crossed the King’s gloomy face as 
Brita Stenbock resumed : 

“Welcome, King Christian. I thank you in 
the name of my country, for I trust that your 


114 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


stay in this house may be for the good of Swe- 
deu.’^ 

Brita Stenbock neither changed color nor hesi- 
tated as she spoke the words in clear, resonant 
voice. Still erect, her white head raised, her 
sightless eyes fixed before her, she stood, after 
having bowed low, waiting for the King’s hand, 
who, in evident confusion, taking hers, led her 
to the head of the long banqueting-table spread 
in the adjoining apartment, where, taking her 
place by his side, with the aid of the serving- 
man standing behind her chair, she proceeded 
to fulfill all the duties of hostess as surely as 
though in full possession of her sight. 

It was evident from the manner in which the 
blind lady upheld the dignity of her house that 
she was no ordinary woman. She seemed to 
feel her neighbor’s eyes resting inquiringly 
upon her. And now King Christian, raising 
his golden goblet, touched that of his hostess 
in greeting, who, with steady hand, held hers 
toward him. 

“To the well-being of this house!” said he, 
and drank. 

“To the well-being of Sweden!” responded 
Brita Stenbock, as she drained her goblet, then . 
calmly reseated herself. 

The many lights upon the walls glistened upon 
the costly silver service with which the table 
was covered, and were reflected back from the 
ros}^ wine. The aroma of dainty dishes, artis- 
tically prepared, now being brought in, began to 
pervade the hall. The King’s face expressed 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


115 


content, although his eyes sought round the 
table. By degrees a look of impatience came 
across it, as, turning to his hostess, he asked: 

“And the Rose of the festivities to which we 
were invited, why does she delay her coming? 
It seems to me I see a pair of expectant eyes 
below there, which, with even greater right 
than I, might well ask the question.” And 
he signed across to Gustavus Rosen, who oc- 
cupied a place in the middle of the table, seem- 
ing deaf and blind to all passing around him. 

Rosen, as soon as he could, with befitting re- 
spect, leave the King’s side, had gone in search 
of his betrothed. He had sought her in every 
apartment of the castle, but without success. 
All whom he asked had just seen her, but no 
one seemed to know where she was at the mo- 
ment. Sunk in moody brooding, Rosen did not 
even observe the King’s gesture. But at that 
very moment he sprang up with radiant, joyous 
face; the long sought for one had appeared on 
the threshold of the door opposite to him. 

Karin still looked somewhat pale; but in the 
reddish light of the torches her pallor seemed 
even to enhance her loveliness. She wore a 
white-trained gown of costly material, which, 
witbi the blue girdle round her waist, were the 
colors of Sweden. Her hair hung in golden 
profusion upon her bare shoulders. As she came 
forth into the full light of the brilliantly illu- 
minated apartment her whole appearance was 
one of marvelous loveliness and majesty. As- 
tounded at her beauty, all eyes turned upon her, 


116 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


every hand, with goblet raised, sank back invol- 
untarily to the table. 

Two only of the guests at the banquet rose 
simultaneously from their places — Gustavus 
Rosen and the King. Karin being nearer to 
the latter, he was the first to reach her, as 
he exclaimed: 

“I’ faith. Rose of Trollhatta, you are well 
named; and are, moreover, guilty of high 
treason for every minute you have withheld 
yourself from our royal eyes. In punishment 
whereof, we now separate you from your bride- 
groom, whose possession you are to-morrow to 
become, to the envy of thousands. The Queen 
of Sweden is not here to take her rightful seat 
by our side; you, in her absence, are the one 
to whom it is due. Come, Maid of Trollhatta 
— we challenge you, ladies and gentlemen, to 
follow our example and do homage to the Queen 
of the Evening.” 

And taking her by the hand, he led her, with 
all the deference due to a princess of the blood, 
to the seat on his right hand. With one rapid 
look of greeting to her betrothed, Karin, with 
all the haughty dignity of a real queen, took 
her place by Christian’s side, who straightway 
emptied his goblet in her honor. The knights 
of his retinue did likewise, bowing low before 
the daughter of the house. In the King’s eyes, 
fixed upon her and her alone, there was an ex- 
pression which caused them to bow even lower 
than they probably would have done to the true 
Queen of Sweden, sitting lonely in her castle in 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


117 


Copenhagen. Rosen could scarce believe his 
own eyes; could this be the same Karin who, for 
the slavery of her fatherland, could be oblivious 
of her love? Her eyes were those he dreaded, 
which knew not Rosen, and now hung upon 
every gesture of King Christian. She smiled 
upon him, and he drank the wine she tasted. 
The flattering speeches he poured into her ear 
drove the blood crimsoning to her cheeks. 

‘‘She is handsomer than the Dove of Amster- 
dam — she will bring luck to Sweden,” mur- 
mured the knights aside to each other, amid 
the clatter of goblets. 

Had Karin Stenbock seen but one way left to 
save Sweden — and had she taken it — the way 
Esther once trod to the throne of the King of 
Persia? Then truly thou art a courageous 
woman, Karin Stenbock, and posterity will 
admire, perhaps laud thee. But thy love was 
false and thine heart worthless. Pause yet on 
the way ; thou tremblest, and thine eye yet often 
seeketh that of thy father, as though thou wert 
seized with sudden dread. Is it he who hath 
sold thee for Sweden’s weal — he, whose unflinch- 
ing eye doth encourage the daughter to go on 
the way which is foul treachery to Gustavus 
Rosen? 

It was a festive night such as Torpa had not 
seen for many a long day, perhaps had never 
seen before. King Christian, as a rule, was an 
abstemious man. Since the massacre in Stock- 
holm he had not touched wine that his wine- 
taster had not previously tasted. But with 


118 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Karin by his side his suspicious fears were 
lulled, and he drained every bumper filled for 
him by her white hands. His eyes hung en- 
tranced upon her face; his potations began to 
make his tongue so heavy that, in lieu of whis- 
pers, he now spoke so loud that Brita Stenbock 
must have heard every ardent word addressed 
to her daughter. Yet, like her husband, she sat 
on unmoved, rigid as a statue in her curiously 
carved high- backed chair. Gustavus Rosen, 
too, filled his goblet full oft from the silver 
jug before him, and drained it hastily, try- 
ing to escape thought, to drown it — until to- 
morrow. 

It was past midnight. The King seemed dis- 
posed to retire; yet delayed. His arm rested on 
the back of Karin’s chair; his lips moved as if 
about to speak, then closed again. 

“Fair Karin,” he said at last, in as low a 
voice as he could command, “it is time for us 
to part. I would fain sleep under your protec- 
tion, lovely Rose. Where is my chamber? Is it 
far from yours? Sleep will flee from my eyes 
if I may no longer hear your gentle breath- 
ing.” 

Every vestige of color had forsaken the young- 
girl’s face, yet she remained beside him, as 
if bewitched, and he continued, raising his 
wine-enflamed eyes to hers, and with heavy 
tongue : 

“Do you not know that it is my right to 
watch over you to-night that no intruder en- 
ters your chamber? I might command you not 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


119 


to secure your door — I only entreat, Karin — not 
as the King, who may command, but as your 
friend, who, ere a fresh day breaks, must have 
speech again with you. Will you await me? 
Else I will have my horse saddled now, this 
instant, and ride away, and another ’ may lead 
you to the altar — if he dare. Do not answer; 
only drink me a yes, if I may come.” 

Now the King had spoken in so low a voice 
as only to reach the ears for whom his words 
were intended. 

Karin raised her goblet, though with such 
trembling hand that the wine flowed like blood 
upon the table. Her eyes looked wildly from 
Christian to her father. “Courage,” prompted 
Stenbock’s unflinching eyes. “Courage!” And 
Karin, touching her goblet against that of the 
King, drank. 

A glow, red as the spilled wine, flamed in his 
eyes. 

“Let them see to it,” he whispered, “that my 
suite are so disposed for the night as not to 
interfere with, or interrupt us. I have much 
to discourse with you, Karin.” 

The royal arm, thrown about her chair, now 
drew closer round her, and his hand was boldly 
laid upon hers, despite her shrinking movement 
of repulsion, while with his left hand detaching 
a gold, heavily jeweled chain from his neck he 
slid it into her lap. 

“Hang this on the handle of your door,” he 
said, “that I may know the sweet garden 


120 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


wherein so perfect a rose is blooming. And 
tell me how I may reach it unobserved.” 

No snow figure formed by child’s hand could 
be whiter than was Karin Stenbock’s face, as, 
leaning toward the King, she stammered in 
broken, almost inaudible accents: 

“To the right of your majesty’s door is a 
corridor; count thirteen steps and turn off to 
the left; there you will find a door which will 
lead you to me. The chain, hanging from it, 
shall show you which. In one hour, after ali 
have gone to rest. I will await you.” 

The girl’s strength was exhausted. Her head 
fell back half-swooning against her chair. 

King Ahasuerus, glowing at her with drunken 
glance, rose. “Our queen is weary,” said he, 
in a loud voice, filling himself another bumper. 
“We will drink to her fair dreams to-night.” 

Once more the golden goblets w^ere raised, and 
the courtiers bowed low to the May sun, which 
had so unexpectedly risen before them in this 
midnight hour. Then they prepared to follow 
their royal master, who, however, stopped them 
with gesture of command : 

“We require no guard to-night. Captain 
Torpen, and desire to rest undisturbed. Our 
generous host has, doubtless, in his hospitality, 
provided you with comfortable night-quarters 
where you can sleep off the effects of his excel- 
lent wine. Wc thank you, Stenbock; we are 
well pleased with your entertainment. Rosen 
will allow us to exercise our privilege of guest 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


in 


and thank our fair hostess according to time- 
honored custom.” 

Christian’s unfettered nature had lost all self- 
command, and as he spoke he threw his arm 
round Karin and kissed her forehead, mur- 
muring: 

“In an hour.” 

The terrible struggle Esther had fought with 
herself was conquered. 

“In an hour,” she repeated, in low, but firm 
voice. “Do not forget my instructions.” 


122 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


CHAPTER V. 

Silence has descended upon Castle Torpa. 
Night reigns over Sweden; only the shadows 
of clouds over the face of the moon scud over 
the battlefields of Falkoping and Bogesund; only 
the waters of the Malar murmur against the 
steps of the deserted palace in Stockholm, in 
gentle endeavor to wash away the remaining 
traces of blood from their granite surface. Thei r 
soft plash is as a sound of coming spring in the 
west; the waters of the Hjelmar Lake, hearing 
it, carry it further over the immense waste of 
the Wener Lake; the thunders of Trollhatta take 
up the strain: ‘‘Spring is coming.” Karin’s 
jackdaws, too, have heard it, and are celebrat- 
ing it in the moonlight. Perhaps it is in fear 
of the glistening halberds thronging the gardens 
and courtyard of Torpa, that no shadow of earth 
or air may approach the royal couch unperceived, 
that they are assembling on the lonely shores of 
Trollhatta. ' The May sun of one day has not 
had power to thaw the snow lying so thick over 
the rocky hills; thus the movements of the dark 
figures are clearly defined upon it. They seem 
to make no sound, yet it may be that it is lost 
in the din of the roaring cataract. So clear is 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


123 


the moonlight now that they may be counted 
as they cross the Gotaelf above the Falls. They 
number just forty, and as they come over the 
ford, turning down stream, somewhat in the 
direction of the hill, they all at once slip down, 
one after the other, into the earth, where they 
must have made their nests, and thus disappear 
from the face of the moonlit valley, as though 
swept away by the wind. The stillness that 
has fallen over Torpa is only broken by the 
regular tramp of the guards. 

Throughout the castle reigns darkness and si- 
lence. Up in the second story Captain Torben and 
his comrades lie sleeping on luxurious couches. 
The revelry over night makes them sleep sound- 
ly; not one of them is sensible of the roar of 
the Trollhatta, which, at night, is heard for 
miles around. 

In a lofty apartment, dimly lighted, reclines 
Christian the Second upon a seat covered with 
costly embroideries. For an instant he had 
thrown himself upon the silken Arabian bed, 
over which gleamed a large, richly gilded 
crown; but his agitation and impatience had 
quickly driven him from it again. He fixed 
his vacant eyes upon the crimson window-cur- 
tains, which, in the dim light of the hanging 
lamp, seem to flow to the ground like streams 
of blood, as they gently move in the night air — 
the King having flung open his window to cool 
his heated brow. Ever since the previous au- 
tumn the ruler of the three United Kingdoms 
has grown nervous and superstitious. The red 


124 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


color of the hangings makes him shudder. He 
springs off his couch and bends forward, star- 
ing fixedly at the swaying curtains. 

No — he gives no thought to the mangled heads 
which rolled at his feet last autumn in Stock- 
holm ; not at this moment. A stronger attrac- 
tion has chased away his fears. His heated 
fancy pictures another head whose golden sheen 
of hair falls upon a pair of white shoulders, and, 
straining his ear in the death-like silence of the 
house, he throws off his tunic, under which 
glistens a shirt of closely- wrought, flexible 
steel mail. For an instant he hesitates, then, 
unfastening this also, he suffers it to fall 
with a clang to the ground, and envelops him- 
self in a costly silken garment reaching to his 
feet. 

Christian the Second is still in the forties, and 
as he passes by the lofty metal mirror it gives 
him the reflection of a handsome man of kingly 
presence, who, even without his kingship, might 
well think to win the heart of a girl of eighteen. 
It is not wine alone that has chased from his 
face the gloomy mistrust and the lines which so 
disfigure it. He had loved the beautiful Dyveke 
perhaps as deeply and passionately as Gustavus 
Rosen loved Karin Stenbock, and the Rose of 
Trollhatta was full as lovely as the Dove of 
Amsterdam. 

You have attained your end, Esther. To- 
morrow morning will see your power supreme 
over the morose conqueror of your Fatherland, 
and Sweden’s salvation, so long dreamt of with 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


125 


your eyes, those other eyes of yours, will lie iu 
your white hands. 

Does she also think thus, who, with those same 
white hands pressed tightly upon her quick heav- 
ing bosom, is now standing in her chamber, upon 
whose further door fastening hangs the golden 
chain, its diamonds flashing in the dim light of 
the hall, sending out beacons into the darkness 
of the corridor? 

Karin’s face is as deadly white as when, 
exhausted, she fell back by Christian’s side. 
Yet she no longer trembles; she, too, heark- 
ens expectantly in the death-like silence of the 
house. 

Now a gentle, cautious step approaches, 
audible only to the keenest ear in the all- 
pervading stillness of the night. But it does 
not come along the corridor, but through the 
next room, pausing by the door through whose 
opening Gustavus Folkung had, unperceived, 
seen Brita Stenbock. An almost imperceptible 
knock, and Karin, quickly and noiselessly slip- 
ping the bolt, opens it, and finds herself next 
moment in Gustavus Rosen’s arms, who, with 
passionate embrace, kisses her forehead, eyes, 
and lips, as he stammers out : 

“You would have driven me mad, Karin, 
had you not whispered me you would await 
me here to-night. After a whole month of 
sleepless days and nights spent away from 
you I come back to see you keep away from 
me for hours. Only to see you — to get not 
one word, not one look from youi ” 


126 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


His voice had grown louder in his agitation. 
Freeing herself from his arms, Karin, terrified, 
placed her hand over his lips. 

“Be still,” she whispered. 

Her eyes roved from him to the further door, 
and putting her lips to his ear, she breathed: 

“In a few minutes King Christian will be 
coming through that door to seek me. I fear 
him; that is why I summoned you. You are 
my protector, and must be in that room, 
at hand, Gustavus. It had been differently 
.planned; and my mother had ordered me to 
tell you nothing. But the garden and court- 
yard are filled with armed men; and every- 
thing has had to be altered. I dared not have 
carried it out had I not known that I should 
have you at hand.” 

The young man stared at her in speechless 
astonishment; his thoughts forsook him, his 
mind refused to take in what she said. 

Putting her lips still more closely to his ear, 
she whispered a few hurried words, which sent 
him staggering back in horror, as he clasped 
his hand to his forehead. 

“Here — where I have brought him — where 
my honor is pledged — Impossible — never!” 
he stammered, breathlessly. 

Karin’s sapphire eyes grew almost black, as 
she gazed full at him. 

“Gustavus,” she said, with shaking voice. 
“Are you no Swede? My hand can only be 
given to a Swede.” 

He looked at her in consternation and despair. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


127 


“Time is flying, the King may leave his 
room at any moment,’’ she continued, hur- 
riedly. “The gleam of his lamp in the cor- 
ridor is the signal for Gustavus Folkung — ” 
she broke off abruptly, in listening attitude. 
Her eyes, turned from Rosen, had not caught 
the wild expression that had suddenly crossed 
his face. It had needed but one spark to fall 
into his oppressed, stunned heart, and Karin, 
by her mention of the name which aroused 
within him the hydra -headed monster, had 
effectually lighted the latent flame of jealousy. 

“Ah, Gustavus Folkung!” he laughed, with 
ringing peal. “Does he come to fetch you — 
Gustavus Folkung! ” 

And wildly pushing Karin aside, who rushed 
after him, he dashed out of the room by the 
further door, tearing it open with such vio- 
lence that it sent the gold chain clanging to 
the ground. 

The sound of his raised voice, the noise of his 
hurrying footsteps, awoke an echo in the lofty 
passage leading by a flight of stairs to the 
castle gardens. A confused murmur of voices 
was to be heard below; sounds of a hurrying 
to and fro — of “Betrayed!” “Back!” then a 
firm voice, rising above the confusion, com- 
mands: “Forward!” 

They are Karin’s jackdaws, who, creeping 
underground, have come out at the other side. 
None will give way to the other; in close array 
they storm along the narrow passage. 

Yet another second and they will have cut 


128 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


off the retreat of the man, who, in long dress- 
ing-gown, and shielding the light of his lamp 
with his hand, is approaching. 

King Christian’s fevered senses take in noth- 
ing. He counts the thirteen steps, then turns 
to the left. 

Suddenly Gustavus Rosen, rushing upon him 
like a madman, seizes him by the arm, scream- 
ing: “Save yourself! ” and drags him back with 
him to the apartment the King had but just 
quitted. “Your majesty is betrayed! Gus- 
tavus Vasa has entered the castle from Troll- 
hatta by a subterranean passage!” 

These are no jackdaws which fill up every 
corridor and passage. They are the herculean 
forms of the Dalecarlians, every man of whom 
could catch up the King of Denmark in his 
arms as easily as a child. Gustavus Stenbock 
leads them, and they come rushing on. The 
plan has failed. How not silence but imme- 
diate action is the sole hope. 

“Where is the tyrant?” They have come 
upon Karin hastening after her lover; she points 
out the way to them. 

In her eyes every ray of the light he loves 
is extinguished. With lips trembling with 
scorn and fury, she cries: 

“He has taken refuge in his own room. Gus- 
tavus Rosen has betrayed us! ” 

A wild curse passed the lips of the foremost, 
and Gustavus Folkung, sword in hand, dashed 
in the direction her finger had pointed. The 
fugitives are not yet out of the corridor; the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


129 


King’s light had gone out, and in their haste 
and confusion they have gone beyond the door 
of his room. Their lives, the fate of Sweden, 
hangs on a second of time. But Gustavus Rosen 
knows every inch of Castle Torpa, even in the 
dark. There is no corner in which he has not 
played as a boy, has not roamed with Karin, 
hand in hand. Feeling backward, his hand has 
reached the doorway, and dragging the King in 
with him, he draws the bolts, at the very instant 
that Folkung’s hand without shakes the strong 
fastenings. “Where’s an ax! Break the door 
in! Go round to the other side of the room, 
Stenbock! ” 

But the strong door resists; and in answer, 
Rosen’s voice is heard from the window; 

“Help! — help! The King is being mur- 
dered ! ” 

In a moment, the stillness of the night is 
over and gone. A hundred calls resound on 
every side. There is a thunder of armed men 
upon the broad terrace steps beneath; above, 
Captain Torben and his company, springing 
from their beds and grasping their swords, 
swarm downstairs, half dressed. They come 
upon Stenbock and his men, who, having 
rushed through the banqueting hall, are en- 
deavoring to force an entrance to the King’s 
apartment on the other side. 

The spears so fearlessly wielded by the Dale- 
carlians to oust the bears from their dens are 
now turned with deadly fury upon the bare 
breasts of the Danes. Not yet fully awake. 


130 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


Kaut Torben, staggering up to the powerful 
form of the gray- headed master of the castle, 
shouts : 

‘‘We were sleeping peacefully under your 
roof. Is this your Swedish hospitality, Gus- 
tavus Stenbock?” 

“Stockholm hospitality ! Knut Torben — taught 
us by you !” thundered he back as he drove his 
sword into the captain’s temples, who, with a 
cry, fell to the ground, his lifeless body rolling 
close to the seat upon which, but a few hours 
before, he had pledged the daughter of the man 
who had slain him. Round the banqueting 
table rages the fight, the costly silver flLes 
about the hall; but the dying Danes have 
availed to keep back the Vale men for the de- 
cisive minute from the King’s inner door, and, 
at Rosen’s cry, help is coming up on all sides. 
Torches, lighted by the breathless soldiers, now 
make hall and corridors light as day. 

“We are lost! Retreat!” calls Stenbock, 
desperately. 

The Dalecarlians are but forty against hun- 
dreds; it were but mad desperation to further 
pursue their intention. Now the danger threat- 
ens that they may be cut off from their retreat. 
This Stenbock shouts to Folkung, who, turning 
to Karin, standing motionless, staring as if 
stunned at the approaching Danes, encircles 
her with his arm. 

“We shall meet again, Christian!” he mut- 
tered through his teeth. Then, with superhu- 
man strength, which not one of his colossal 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


131 


followers could have outdone, he caught up 
the unresisting girl and carried her along 
with him. The others covered his retreat, 
making as bold a stand in the narrow passage 
as had done Leonidas’s host in Thermopylse. 
Their short weapons were as nothing against 
the long halberds of the Danes ; but as each man 
fell, his body helped to block up the narrow 
way. 

Now King Christian, clad in his shirt of mail, 
issued forth from the door which had stood him 
in such good stead. Gustavus Rosen, follow- 
ing him, looked ghastly pale as his eyes wan- 
dered over the scene of battle into which his cry 
for help had changed the peaceful home of his 
childhood. The torches threw a lurid, awful 
light upon the faces, stilled forever, lying 
around. Suddenly, looking beyond the com- 
batants struggling in deadly fury, his eyes 
caught sight of something white at the far 
end of the passage. It was Karin’s dress. 
Starting from his bewilderment, he dashed 
back, across the hall and down the terrace 
steps, calling, as he went, to the soldiers he 
met to follow him to that corner of the garden 
where lay the outer door through which Karin 
had once secretly conducted Folkung. “This 
way!” and with the powerful halberd he had 
seized from the man nearest him, he commenced 
battering at the oaken door, a hundred eager 
blows seconding him. It yielded to their efforts, 
the last support succumbing to Rosen’s fury, 
and for a second time, on that' very spot, he 


1.32 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


stood facing Folkung’s flashing eyes. But this 
time they had lost their power over him. Un- 
heeding the spears of the Dalecarlians, who 
pressed close after their leader, he seized bis 
betrothed by the shoulder, lying unconscious cn 
Folkung’s left arm, as, with the right, he had 
wrenched back the battered door. 

“Karin!” cried Rosen, “Karin!” 

So bitter, despairing a ring there was in his 
voice that it might have called back the dead to 
life; and it aroused her he called from her swoon. 
It was the voice of the one she loved, causing 
every fiber of her heart to thrill ; and, opening 
her eyes wide, she looked at him. 

“Karin!” 

“Back, traitor!” 

Convulsively shuddering, she stretched out 
her hands to warn him off with gesture of 
aversion. 

Gustavus Rosen was in the act of seizing hold 
of Folkung to hold him back; but at sight of 
Karin’s look of aversion his hand fell power- 
less. It was her last, for her white dress sank 
as though sucked in by the earth into the dark- 
ness. Motionless, as though struck by lightning, 
Rosen stood facing the Vale men, pressing cn 
toward him; the next instant the soldiers drag- 
ging him back, unarmed as he was, cover him. 
And now the fight breaks out anew on this side 
the narrow passage, but this time to the advan- 
tage of the Swedes, who succeed in forcing back 
the Danes, heavily pressed on both sides, to the 
outer door, thus maintaining possession of the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


133 


subterranean passage. The soldiers, supposing 
there to be no outlet and those who have taken 
refuge there to be their prisoners, relax their 
ardor, not to drive them to extremities. 

Some dozen Dalecarlians lie pierced with hal- 
berds under wellnigh fifty of the King’s guards, 
but the remainder having reached the massive 
door, it is hurled back into its fastenings by 
the last man with loud drav/ing of strong bolts, 
and secured from within by mighty beams 
drawn across. Then he, bleeding and wounded, 
follows the others, who, as if flying over hot 
coals, speed along the long, unlit way, which, 
since dark days have set in for Sweden, has 
rescued many a one fleeing from the besieged 
castle, and will do so now. True, the foremost 
carries a far other burden than he had dreamed 
of for his spoil. It was to have been a man — 
it is a young girl; he should have worn the 
golden crown of Scandinavia^ — from her swoon- 
ing head floats streams of golden hair. Yet 
Gustavus Folkung bears her in his arms as 
though she were a queen. Ever nearer comes 
the loud rumbling sound which shakes the 
bowels of the earth; they have reached the 
egress where the jackdaws a few short hours 
before had disappeared into the ground. Bend- 
ing his knee, Folkung rolls the great stone 
aside, and with the gust of cool, fresh air that 
rushes in, the deafening roar of the Trollhatta 
strikes, all unawares, upon the fugitives’ ears. 
It arouses Karin from her death-like swoon, and 
she shivers slightly in the chill May air. Care- 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


lU 

fully, as though she were a child committed to 
him, her protector covers her with his mantle 
and strides on, followed by his men. There is 
a sharp whistle, which is answered from the 
opposite shore of the stream, and a dark mass 
is seen being rapidly propelled across the river, 
which soon assumes the form of a ferry-boot. 
It grates the shore and Folkung springs in 
and lays his burden gently on soft cushions in 
the bottom of the boat. With gloomy brow, 
Stenbock follows, and the Vale men fill the 
boat. 

But suddenly they are thrown into confusion. 
Karin, opening her eyes, has cried; “Where is 
mother?” And Stenbock, with stifled cry and 
oath, exclaims : “By Heavens! We had forgot- 
ten her. She is in the tyrant’s power. Turn 
back!” 

“Impossible!” returns the leader’s deter- 
mined voice. “Ifc were certain destruction, 
and, moreover, useless.” 

But Stenbock, unheeding him, forces his way 
through the boat’s company to reach the shore 
again. At that instant a loud cry is heard: 

“Here they are-— seize them. Jump into the 
water — a boat! ” 

It is Gustavus Rosen, the only one of the 
pursuers who knows of the subterranean pas- 
sage, and who, on seeing the Dalecarlians dis- 
appear down it, in maddened desperation has 
collected a body of soldiers and made his way 
with lightning speed over the ascent of the 
Trollhatta. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


135 


But he is too late. 

The authoritative voice of Folkung is heard : 
“Forward, men ! Sv\^eden is of more importance 
than a woman, even though her name be Brita 
Stenbock !” And with powerful rhythmic strokes 
of the cars the boat disappears like lightning 
from the bank. The Danes raise their spears to 
fling them with unfailing aim among the close- 
ly packed ranks of the fugitives. But Rosen, 
throwing himself before them, cries, in horror: 

“No, no — you would kill her ! ” 

Astonished, they replace their spears, then 
pressing forward, forcibly hold back the young 
man, who is springing into the water to follow 
the boat. Dragging him roughly back, they 
listen with mingled scorn and indifference to 
his heart-broken cries : s - 

“Karin — Karin! ” 

The agonized sound penetrates distinctly to 
mid-stream. Gustavus Stenbock hears it not. 
Covering his graj^ head with his mantle, he 
seeks to conceal the bitter tears wrung as hotly 
and despairingly from his heart as from that 
of the younger man, lamenting joys he has not 
yet known. But both Folkung and Karin hear 
it; they liear the piteous, despairing cry: 

“Gustavus Vasa! I will do all thou wult-- 
only give her back to me, Gustavus Vasa!” 

Karin, starting up, looks inquiringly into her 
companion’s face, in the dim light of dawn. 

“By what name is he calling you? Are you 
Gustavus Ericsson?” 

He nods assent. 


136 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


“Yes, Karin. You learn it from your be- 
trothed’s farewell greeting.” 

With bitter laugh as he speaks, he throws 
himself hurriedly before her to shield her from 
the spears which now swish through the air, 
and fail, hissing round them, into the troubled 
water. On hearing the name of the fugitive 
leader, the Danes, no longer heeding Rosen’s 
feeble resistance, have pushed him aside, and 
are hurling their weapons with concentrated 
fury after the fast receding boat. But it is 
already beyond reach of their aim, and a few 
strokes more places them out of danger. 

“Will you go back to Gustavus Rosen, 
Karin?” asks her companion. “Say but the 
word, and I myself will take you to him.” 

The voice is the same hard voice which ad- 
dressed her last autumn at the Falls of Troll- 
hatta, and yet there is a something wavering 
in it, perhaps caused by the swaying of the 
boat, as they near the opposite shore. 

Karin answers quickly: “Never. Between 
him and me there is an abyss wide as the 
Trollhatta, between this shore and the other. 
My heart no longer belongs to the betrayer of 
Sweden.” 

Gustavus Ericsson’s firm lips tremble imper- 
ceptibly. 

“Then to Sweden’s deliverer, Karin? Will 
your heart be given to him who shall save 
Sweden from Christian’s tyranny?” 

A shudder passes through her. She is about 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


137 


to answer, when the boat, at that moment, 
striking the shore with violent jerk, she stag- 
gers, and would have fallen had not Gustavus 
Vasa’s arm supported her. Holding her cold 
hand in his, he whispers, hurriedly, as he 
leans toward her: 

“Who shall win this fair hand, Karin?” 

“This hand — ” It has grown so light that 
her changing color, from white to rosy- red, is 
plainly seen; her sparkling eyes wander toward 
the still immovable figure of her father, covered 
in his mantle, and with feverish haste she re- 
peats — “this hand — ” Then suddenly looking, 
with steady eyes, at the man standing by her 
side, she continues: “This hand is free, Gus- 
tavus Ericsson, as the Trollhatta can bear wit- 
ness, and belongs to him who carries out two 
things — ” 

The Falls of Trollhatta, in their roar, deaden 
the words so hastily whispered by Karin’s lips. 
Those waters of which tradition tells that the 
ancient bard, as he stood by them, seized by 
the demoniacal power of the thundering cata- 
ract was helplessly sucked down into their 
depths. 

Does she think of this, as, shivering in the 
chill morning air, her eyes follow the course 
of the green waves hurrying past. Does she 
remember the words, once so painfully wrung 
from her heart: “Do not grow weary, poor 
Gustavus. If you were to grow weary, and 
the current had seized me so that you could 


138 


KARIN OB SWEDEN. 


not save me from it — ” Wo, there is a grave 
expression in her eyes; but she is not think- 
ing of those words, is not thinking of Gus- 
tavos Rosen. Her companion’s eyes, too, are 
grave, as he hears the words of her low 
whisper. 

Then, bending ovejr her, he says: 

“I have said that Sweden’s fate was more 
to me than a woman. You are the first wo- 
man, Karin Stenbock, who has ever shaken 
my will. Sweden’s future be upon your head 
if it be lost for sake of a woman! ” And bow- 
ing to her with knightly dignity, he passed on 
to the Dalecarlians, who had already landed, 
and chose out four from among them, to whom 
he gave some orders in a low voice. The hearts 
of the Vale men know no fear, else the expres- 
sion of their eyes might betoken it, as thej^ re- 
ceive his bidding. And as little as fear do they 
know want of discipline toward their leader; 
thus, at a word, they hasten back toward their 
boat, while he, approaching Stenbock, addresses 
him in a low voice. At the first word, the lat- 
ter’s face assumes a look of almost youthful vigor 
and he makes a hasty movement to follow the 
men. But Gustavus Vasa, holding him back, 
continues his hurried talk, to which Sten- 
bock, reluctantly signing assent, shakes him 
long and warmly by the hand in Swedish 
fashion. 

“All obey him,” thinks Karin, following the 
proud, almost regal bearing of the young man 
with her eyes, as he springs into the boat with 


KA'RIN OF SWEDEN. 


139 


the four men and stands upright among them, 
as they, keeping close into shore, begin pulling 
up-stream. “All must obey him — they as well 
as I. He is like the Trollhatta. ” 

A hand waving to her from the receding boat 
interrupts Karinas thoughts. She returns it, as, 
opening her lips, she involuntarily begins, ‘ ‘ Gus- 
tavus!” Then, quickly recollecting, she says, 
“Farewell, Gustavus Vasa!” 


140 


KARIN OF SWEDEN, 


CHAPTER VI. 

The first pale light of dawn was struggling 
with the ruddy glare of the torches as Gustavus 
Rosen returned to Castle Torpa. He dragged 
his feet after him wearily; his cheeks were 
sunken and hollow from that night’s anguish, 
as though after a wasting illness ; his eyes had 
lost their light. Without aim or object he had 
walked on mechanically, instinct guiding him 
to the scene of his past joys and present 
misery. 

An officer, hastening to-him as he entered the 
courtyard, informed him that the King had 
been inquiring for him many times; and, tak- 
ing the young man by the arm, conducted him 
straightway to the royal presence. 

To the initiated it was very evident that the 
King was in one of his most dangerous moods. 
Guarded by a strong body of soldiers, the serv- 
ing-men and maids of the House of Stenbock 
stood penned into one corner of the apartment ; 
while Christian, sitting on a high-backed- chair 
by the window, called up each one severally and 
questioned him or her. Their statements, one 


KARIN OF S.WEDEN. 


141 


and all, were similar and evidently truthful. 
They had known nothing of the projected attack 
upon the King, and had been taken quite as 
much by surprise by it as had the sovereign 
himself. The truth of what they said was on 
the face of it, inasmuch as not one had at- 
tempted to take to flight in the subsequent 
confusion, but had suffered themselves to be 
surrounded by the soldiers without effort at re- 
sistance. And King Christian too was per- 
suaded of the truth of their statements, for he 
said, with a laugh, to each as he dismissed 
them : 

“You are right. Yes, I see you have had 
your night’s rest disturbed for no reason. I 
Will take care that it does not happen again. 
You can go!” And at his signal the witness 
was led away. But at the moment he reached 
the head of the staircase in the anteroom, the 
executioner’s ax caught him from behind, so 
that the head, without time to utter one cry, 
rolled down the stairs, while the body fell with 
dull thud in the corridor. One after the other 
disappeared, until at last only one young maid- 
servant remained. Christian, beginning to feel 
sated with the monotonous amusement, standing 
up, looked out of the window. Then turning 
to the girl, he examined her handsome, expres- 
sive features, which, presenting the true Swedish 
type, bore at the same time a likeness to Karin 
Stenbock, though of coarser mold. Looking 
curiously at her, he laughed more loudly than 
before. 


142 


KARIN .OF SWEDEN. 


“At the foot of the staircase lie some dozen 
of fools’ heads. If you would keep yours on 
your shoulders, wench, go collect them in your 
apron and bring them up to me.” 

The girl fell back fainting. 

“Carry her out,” said he, “and see that she 
complies with my command.” 

“The wench bears resemblance to the daughter 
of that scoundrel Stenbock,” muttered one of 
the suite to his neighbor. “She is probably a 
fair step-sister of whom our good hostess has as 
little suspicion as of the heads now decorating 
her staircase.” 

The speaker started, for, sharply turning his 
head, Christian shot him a ferocious look. Then 
rushing, to the door through which the fainting 
girl was being led, he seized her shoulder with 
iron grip, and, twisting her round, stared into 
her face with an expression of savage ferocity. 

“He is right; she is one of the brood,” he 
muttered. “It is the grinning mask that be- 
trayed me!” 

And ere the girl could fall upon her knees, 
the King of Sweden, Norway and Denmark, 
snatching the broadsword from the hand of one 
of his guards, himself severed the head from 
the body of the victim lately pardoned, bestow- 
ing a further blow upon the golden head as it 
rolled upon the floor. 

It was at that moment that Gustavus Rosen 
entered the apartment. The King’s eyes, roving- 
round, perceived him instantly, and he advanced 
-with a loud laugh toward him. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


143 


There lies the head of your lady love, 
Rosen,” he cried. “Kiss it, man!” 

The young fellow’s brain was so unhinged 
that at sight of the fair head, which death 
had not robbed of its resemblance to Karin, he 
had nearly broken down. But another peal of 
loud laughter from the King roused him from 
his bewilderment. 

“Not this time!” continued the King. “The 
Rose of Trollhatta has escaped us both. Damn 
it” — the veins on his forehead swelled, and he 
stamped his foot with such violence that the 
walls shook, and those present trembled — “who 
is the villain who suffered her to escape? You 
are every one of you traitors, whom I should do 
well to hang, draw and quarter!” 

No one dared to meet the King’s eyes, who, 
his face distorted with fury, had snatched up 
the sword from the ground and was wielding it, 
like one seized with sudden madness, over the 
heads of the crouching, terrified Danes, making 
it cut through the air. Once only had they seen 
him thus before, after the death of the Dove of 
Amsterdam, supposed to have been poisoned by 
some member of Torben Oxe’s household. It 
was a known fact that it was not defiance to his 
sovereign power which aroused his worst ac- 
cesses of mania, but when a weak spot, unknown 
to any, was touched in his affections. Thus it 
had not been Gustavus Ericsson, but Karin 
Stenbock, who had excited him to this mad out- 
break. Gradually, as no one ventured to oppose 
him, he calmed down, and looking fixedly at 


144 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


the blood-stained blade in his hand, threw him- 
self gloomily upon his chair and leaned heavily 
upon the sword, digging it into the floor; then 
gave command : 

“Bring Brita Stenbock in!” 

A few seconds, and they led her in. Her 
arms were laden with the heavy chains, which 
always accompanied the Danish King on his 
travels ; but she wore them as though they had 
no weight ; nor did a muscle of her face betray 
fear or agitation. But at sight of her Gustavus 
Rosen staggered back agaiast a pillar, his eyes 
resting horrified upon his aunt’s impassive face, 
his own slowly flushing crimson as the con- 
sciousness of all he had brought to her dawned 
upon him. 

For a minute a death-like stillness reigned in 
the vast apartment, in the center of which stood 
Brita Stenbock, tall, erect. At length, breaking 
the silence, she asked in a loud voice : 

“Who desired my presence?” 

The King started as if affrighted. His eyes 
had been fixed upon the ground. 

“I,” he replied, with unsteady voice. 

“It is the voice of Christian of Denmark.” 

Any one, looking at him, might have thought 
that the sightless eyes of his irreconcilable en- 
emy had regained life, so nervously did he avoid 
looking in the direction in which she had invol- 
untarily turned her face. There was another 
pause; then the King gave sudden command: 

“Remove the chains from off her!” 

With astonished looks his guards obeyed. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


145 


Tlie King, rising, made a few hesitating steps 
toward her. 

“Brita Stenbock, you would have accom- 
jilished my murder!” 

“I would have had you sentenced to death. 
You are the murderer she answered, coldly. 

It seemed as though he, whom all feared, felt 
fear before a woman. Uneasily he now raised 
his eyes to her face; he had no power over Brita 
Stenbock ’s sightless orbs. 

“You had invited me to your house. I con- 
fided in Swedish hospitality,” he continued, 
slowly. 

“You had invited the nobility of Sweden to 
your house in Stockholm. It confided in Danish 
hospitality.” 

Christian’s ej^es sank to the ground. Was 
it the reaction of the excitement he had 
lately undergone? His lips trembled; with 
an effort to control his thoughts to obey him, 
he continued: 

“You gave me hand, and bade me welcome 
to your house, Brita Stenbock.” 

“You gave jmur hand to those you meant to 
slay, and bade them welcome. In the name of 
my fatherland I returned you thanks, and said I 
hoped your sojourn in this house would be for 
Sweden’s weal. To your toast to the welfare of 
my house I responded with one to the welfare 
of Sweden. Why were you so blind as not to 
understand my words? Why did you let your 
seeing eyes be fooled by my sightless ones?” 

There was deep scorn in her tone and words. 


146 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


With ever more breathless amazement did the 
onlookers gaze at the audacious woman, and at 
the uneasy expression and strangely altered coun- 
tenance of the tyrant. Pressing his hand to his 
forehead, he essayed to make answer, but his 
tongue seemed to refuse to obey his will ; at last, 
with a manifest effort, he said : 

“It is war against war, cunning against cun- 
ning. You hate me, and with reason, Brita 
Stenbock. War and cunning are the ruling 
powers with us men; and I look upon you as 
a man. You have fought a brave fight. The 
more I think of it, the higher I esteem you for 
it. Tell me frankly. It was your bram from 
which the plan emanated. It was known to 
none but you. You put it into action, and no 
hand was in it but yours. Say yes, and I will 
reward the magnitude of your conception by re- 
storing you your liberty.” 

Are there in that spacious hall, where a hun- 
dred eyes are resting upon her, only the sight- 
less ones of Brita Stenbock which see — which 
alone apprehend the one spot through which she 
can penetrate the meshes of his coat of mail to 
the heart, to the very center of the heart, of her 
mortal enemy? 

A weird, scoffing, triumphant expression drew 
down the corners of the blind woman’s mouth. 

“Fo, Christian of Denmark, you esteem me 
too highly. Mine was but the counsel ; neither 
the idea nor its execution proceeded from me. 
It was a girl who outdid you in cunning. The 
plan was my daughter’s. She knew you not, 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


147 


nor ever thought that you would bring a whole 
army with you to a marriage feast. The battle 
was to have been at Torpa ; your scaffold the 
altar. But when my daughter became aware of 
the number of your retainers — ” 

King Christian’s hand slid slowly from his 
forehead. 

“When your daughter became aware of the 
number of my retainers — ” he repeated, with a 
strange sob in his voice. 

“Coming to me, she said, ‘Christian of Den- 
mark is not only a tyrant, he is a weak fool. 
Mother, is Sweden’s freedom worth, is his un- 
doing worth, my acting the part of the Inn- 
keeper’s Daughter of Bergen to-night?” 

Even Brita Stenbock shrank back at the wild 
cry, half groan, half roar, which burst from the 
King’s breast as he fell back upon his chair, 
hiding his face in both hands. No one dared to 
breathe in the room. From under the King’s 
hand rolled heavy tears, like drops of blood, onto 
the ground; there was such profound stillness 
that they could be heard as they fell. Then his 
hands convulsively sought the hilt of the sword 
still stuck into the floor, and drew it flercely out, 
with wild, loud laugh, as he cried : 

“You relate well, Brita Stenbock, but time is 
too short to allow us longer to be entertained by 
your powers of recital. So we, the tyrant, have 
buried Swedish hospitality, loyalty and honor? 
You are right again, we were a weak fool!” 

“You may scoff, Christian,” exclaimed the 
gray-headed lady, drawing herself fearlessly up 


148 


KABIN OF SWEDEN. 


at liis words, “but I have hit you. My eyes 
are blind, and others may deem that you are 
laughing. I see you, and see into your heart, 
and I know that it is bleeding under my 
hand.’’ 

A scream of rage escaped the King’s quiver- 
ing lips as, raising his sword, he rushed upon 
the defenseless woman. But an instant, and she 
had followed the fate of the maid-servant, and 
the gray head had rolled beside the golden one. 
But this time Gustavus Rosen, springing for- 
ward, horror-struck, received the blow upon his 
arm. 

For a moment Christian stood immovable, 
staring into the young man’s white face. Then 
letting the sword fall from his clinched fingers, 
he said, icily : 

“I thank you, Rosen. I have been the oause 
of your losing one bride ; I will procure you an- 
other — Are you ready, Brita Stenbock?” 

The meaning lay in the tone not in the words 
of this last question. All present understood 
him. She, to whom they were addressed, not 
least. Yet she showed no fear; but throwing 
back her head, answered : 

“You have no power to judge me, Christian; 
you can only kill me. Death has no fear for 
me; and of what use is my death to you? You 
may slay me with the sword, but that will not 
kill the traditions of this house. My eyes are 
sightless, but in their night I read the future. 
The day is coming when all Sweden will be a 
Torpa ; I see blood fiowing— more than ever ran 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


149 


into the Malar — but it flows toward the Sound, 
illuminated in its course by giant torches. By 
their light I see you, Christian of Denmark, 
powerless, deserted, despised, abhorred. I see 
you striking your pallid forehead, laden with 
your people’s curses and the scorn of men, 
against your prison walls. I see the ghosts of 
Stockholm jeer and laugh at you through the 
iron bars of your window, and how they strike 
terror into your craven soul, frightening you 
back to life because you fear the Throne upon 
which you do not sit, and before which you are 
arraigned. In that day will Trollhatta’s roar 
proclaim the freedom of Sweden as plainly to 
every ear as now it does to mine alone!” 

Majestically the speaker’s hand was out- 
stretched, and in the death-like silence which 
followed her words the roar of Trollhatta was 
clearly audible to all, as, bursting the last ice 
fetters of winter, it bore them with its terrific 
force to the Lake — Sweden’s announcement that 
spring was at hand — as if it were dashing its 
vast volume of water against the very walls of 
Torpa. Even King Christian remained for a 
moment an involuntary listener; but it was 
with the old gloomy, evil expression upon his 
face, over which his treacherous smile played 
fitfully. 

“Your eyes are too keen, and see too far into 
the future, Brita Stenbock,” he said, mockingly. 
“I will make it light about you, that you may 
better see the present. I will build you a giant 
memorial that the Trollhatta cannot roar down ; 


150 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


for it is mine, and its waters henceforth shall 
flow on as gently and obediently whither I shall 
guide it, as shall your people. The spirit of 
this house will not spread over your fatherland, 
converting it into a Torpa, because that giant 
torch your prophetic eyes have seen is Torpa, in 
whose burning you shall lie helpless and for- 
saken. No, not altogether forsaken.” Here 
King Christian turned abruptly. have 

already told you that I owe you thanks, Gus- 
tavus Rosen, for reminding me what pertains to 
the King, and what to his executioner. You 
will readily admit and understand that I am un- 
able at this juncture to restore your young bride 
to you ; but I have come to your wedding, and 
for the few fiery moments I do not doubt but 
that you will be satisfied with the elderly though 
high-born consort I design for you. Captain 
Wohnarson!” 

The officer stepped forward, and Christian, 
whispering a few hasty words into his ear, 
turned again to Rosen. 

“I will be an excellent administrator of your 
property, Rosen ; have no cares on that account. 
I thank you for it.” And shooting a lightning 
glance over Brita Stenbock’s impassive face, the 
King left the apartment. 

Now below were heard bugle calls, announc- 
ing departure ; in a few minutes the courtyard 
was lined with troops, and their commander 
gave the signal to march. Five horses, sad- 
dled, alone remained at the entrance door, be- 
longing to Captain Wohnarson and his men. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


151 


These were not soldiers, but three assistants of 
the man who, now laying aside his “sponsor’s” 
cloak, proceeded roughly to tie Rosen’s hands 
behind his back. Though it may cost him his 
head, the officer standing by cannot refrain a 
shudder as he sees the executioner’s assistant, 
coarsely laughing, bind Brita Stenbock to the 
young m5,n, then chain both of them securely to 
the altar, erected for so different an office. It is 
done, and now turning with a laugh, the execu- 
tioner exclaims : 

“The wedding couple are ready. A gay 
bridegroom, a smart young bride. Bring the 
priest, that he may give the marriage bless- 
ing!” 

One of the assistants springs to the kitchen, 
and soon returns. Grinning, he distributes the 
load he has brought among the others, and they 
betake themselves to the different rooms, con- 
tiguous to the one they have just left. Horror- 
stricken, the Danish officer flies from the doomed 
house, and mounts his horse. Five minutes 
later the others follow him at full gallop, often 
turning in their saddles to look back. 

And now once more all is silent as the grave 
in Castle Torpa; silent, as in the ghostly hour 
when Karin Stenbock stood in her chamber 
awaiting the coming of the King. The first 
rays of the morning sun are shedding their 
beams through the tall, leafless elms upon the 
gray roof — yet it is still the ghost’s hour in the 
Castle. Ghost-like lie the bodies of the dead 
Dalecarlians among their silent adversaries in 


152 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


the dim passages ; upon the blood-stained stairs 
the heads of the many victims still look up with 
glazed, Vv'ide-open ej^es — no sound of life is 
there, of joy or of pain. A cry of anguish were 
Heaven-sent in the awful stillness through 
which, now here, now there, a low, crackling 
sound is perceptible, as though the massive walls 
were beginning slowly to give way under some 
invisible hand. Then a human voice breaks the 
stillness. 

“Mother, do you hear it?” It is the voice 
of Gustavus. Rosen, vainly struggling with his 
chains. With hands bound behind him, he is 
powerless to break them, and his arms fall help- 
lessly back. 

Brita Stenbock hears the sound he means, yet 
her answer is frigid as, when a boy, he stood 
before her chair awaiting punishment. 

“I am not your mother, Gustavus Rosen, and 
I thank Heaven that it has preserved me from 
it. The marriage torch which Christian of 
Denmark has lighted for me is more welcome to 
me than if I had had to give my daughter, at 
this altar, into your traitorous hands. My blood, 
the blood of all these brave men who have fallen 
for Sweden’s cause, be upon your head!” 

The crackling on all sides grew louder; a 
rushing noise, in the euiet of the morning hour, 
as of a storm of wind^ roared through the corri- 
dors. Is it the dead Wi-io are awaking, and with 
heavy tread are stumbling among their com- 
panion dead to rouse them? 

“Mother!” cries the young man, with de- 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


153 


spairing voice. “You are Karin’s mother. In 
her name, speak to me one last word. In one 
short minute we shall be where there are neither 
Swedes nor Danes — where forgiveness, mercy 
and love alone reign. Be merciful to me, 
mother ! ’ ’ 

A shudder, perhaps for the first time in her 
life, passes through the woman’s lion-hearted 
frame. With superhuman strength she strives 
to free her arms, as she vainly turns her sight- 
less orbs in the direction of the pleader’s voice. 
Then a gentler expression passes over her severe 
mouth, and she answers kindly : 

“Your heart did not belong to our stern 
world. Heaven will forgive you, as Karin does, 
and as I do. Sleep in peace, Gustavus!” 

Upon an eminence, some five hundred feet 
distant from Torpa, Christian the Second, sur- 
rounded by his suite, has called a halt. There 
is an impatient knitting of his heavy brows, as 
his piercing eyes are fixed motionless upon the 
Castle bathed in sunlight. Then the frowning 
brow relaxes. A rosy cloud hangs over the wide- 
spreading roof ; coming from within the build- 
ing, it is succeeded by masses of thick black 
smoke, amid which tongues of flame are shoot- 
ing up. The west side of the Castle lies in dark- 
ness, while' the windows of the east side are 
illuminated by the morning sun; now, how- 
ever, in west, south — everywhere — are flames of 
fire shooting up to the sky ; now round about 
they encircle the gray walls with a thousand 


154 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


cuddy arms. A great volume of dame bursts 
from the roof, the southern gables give way and 
fall inward with noisy crash, and amid a shower 
of fiery sparks pieces of burning timber are shot 
out into the air. Revolving like *fiery meteors, 
they fall at great distances, even to the verge of 
Trollhatta, and to the feet of the party of Danes 
looking on at the dread work. 

Nbt a sound or sign of living being is to be 
seen or heard in the conflagration, save the 
frightened rooks flying out of the elm-trees. 
With the eye of a falcon. King Christian’s gaze 
is riveted on the entrance door, and upon the 
area round the Castle. The dead do not move, 
and the living have not burst their bonds. Only 
when the gables fall in with a crash does the 
royal gaze turn away, and there is a dread 
smile upon his tightly compressed lips, as he 
says: 

‘‘That was your giant torch. Kow, good- 
night to you, Brita Stenbock!” He digs the 
spurs violently into his black horse, making him 
rear again. “Thb wedding is over. We have 
had a right merry time at Torpa. Kow your 
work begins again, godfather; keep to my side. 
Forward!” 

And a minute later the spectators have disap- 
peared from sight, and the burning, solitary 
house has an eerie look in the light of the smil- 
ing May sun, as if the old love which had 
grown in it were encircling it with its still sunny 
warmth which had endured through so many a 
summer and winter, until the tempest had come 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


155 


to envelop it in flames, reducing it in one short 
night to ashes. 

Tempests blow over, and flames burn them- 
selves out ; but the sun is eternal, Karin — com- 
ing back to us with every spring-tide, with the 
light of every successive morning, Karin. 

King Christian the Second was right. Before 
evening Torpa had vanished from off the face of 
the earth. But Brita Stenbock’s words were 
still truer. Sword and fire cannot kill spirits, 
whether they be of love or hate. And in them 
Torpa yet lives, as though it were still standing, 
looking over to Trollhatta. Keither in Sweden 
has it died, nor in the heart, Karin, for Torpa is 
eternal as is the sun. 

It is evening again, and only thick clouds of 
sickening smoke rise over the ruins where the 
Castle once stood. And once more the jackdaws 
are crossing the G5ta-Elf ; but there are only five 
this time, who have issued from the rocky pass- 
age at Trollhatta, where they had passed the 
night ; and who now proceed northward. The 
moon sheds its pale light upon the water as the 
broad boat again grazes the side of the opposite 
shore, where Karin, looking back, had called, 
‘ ‘ Farewell, Gustavus V asa ! ’ ’ 

He has fared well. If the earth could repeat 
the words now uttered to the youth who springs 
ashore from the swaying boat, it would say, 
“Farewell, Gustavus Eosen!” 

“Farewell, Gustavus!” It is Ericsson and 
Brita Stenbock who say it, with friendly clasp 


156 


KABm OF SWEDEN. 


of the hand. The close vicinity of Death had 
laid her hand in his, washing out ail stain. 

‘ ‘ Farewell ! ’ ’ He stands and hearkens to their 
footsteps as they die away in the distance : they 
come back to him as the last greeting of his 
former life, fainter and fainter, until they are 
lost in the distant roar of the TroUhatta. It is 
well to sit beside the (TroUhatta for him who 
would fain forget; who would drown memory 
in the cataract’s perpetual roar. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


157 


CHAPTER VII. 

But a few short weeks have passed ; yet the 
spell of winter over Sweden is broken. Not 
from the south, but from the north, from out 
the rough valleys of Dalecarlia has spring come. 

The name of Sweden’s spring is Gustavus 
Vasa. 

No other name, from lake to mountain, has 
brought help to Sweden save his. The nobility 
of the land lies shattered, and well that its power 
is broken and it is impotent — by carrying on the 
jealous feuds which for centuries has shaken and 
enslaved it — to undo the efforts of its deliverer. 
King Christian’s soldiers still hold the towns in- 
habited by the rich burghers under their iron 
grasp. . In wide area the country stretching be- 
tween Copenhagen and Stockholm is devasted, 
the villages burned, the people either fled, or 
slain in battle, or executed. The gallows and 
the rack have marked the ruler’s progress through 
hiS' northern empire since the day he left Torpa. 
Death, his scythe, has passed over the sprouting 
fields, mowing down all it has met with in its 
passage, little and great, with cold impartiality. 
From every head laid low, Christian’s moody 


158 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


eyes have passed on to scan what shall next be 
his prey. 

There are none to bring help to Sweden but the 
sturdy peasants of the Kjol district. Thither have 
the Dalecarlians streamed, from vale and moun- 
tain, to the vast plains open to Heaven’s blue 
vault, which spring has decked with cowslips, 
and to elect Gustavus Vasa to be the leader and 
ruler of themselves and of the Swedish nation. 

And down the mountains marched Gustavus 
Vasa, with his hundreds. He crossed the Dal- 
Elf, and thousands flocked to his standard, for 
spring had come — and 

A Vale man’s arrow strikes home 
To squirrel on tree or to ptarmigan ; 

but not less surely than squirrel and ptarmigan 
did it strike home to the well-armed horsemen 
sent out by the traitorous Archbishop Trolle, to 
oppose the Dalecarlians at Brunnback’s Ferry. 

They drave the Jutes in Brunnback’s tide; 

The waters they over them closed. 

Full much they grieved that Christian’s hide 
Was not there to sink likewise — 

runs the old triumphal chant. 

The waters of the River Dal, dyed red with 
blood, bore the first requital of the massarce 
at Stockholm to the Gulf of Bothnia ; and sim- 
ultaneous with its tidings Gustavus Ericsson 
pressed on toward the south. 

‘H told you in Torpa we should meet again, 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


159 


King Christian. You will not evade a meeting 
with me ere the Sound lies between you and 
Sweden!” was the challenge he sent, by a horse- 
man, to the Danish King. But ere his challenge 
had been secretly nailed by night upon the door 
of the palace where Christian resided, Gustavus 
Yasa had a second time defeated the Danes, at 
Westeras, and his camp now comprised such 
numbers that it was no longer a peasant mob, 
43ut an imposing army which had advanced upon 
W esteras, held by the barber apprentice and 
father confessor of the Danish King, Slagbock. 
This too was stormed by Yasa’s men — 

The Jutes they cursed, and they sware full loud, 
And set up such dismal howl 
The devil was fain to mix them a brew, 

By Dalekarls stirred, cheek to jowl. 

Then, when the summer sun was at its height, 
and night scarce to be distinguished from day, 
the ancient citadel of Upsala yielded to Gustavus 
Yasa. 

Here he halted. The impetuosity of his en- 
thusiastic followers was splendidly calculated to 
conquer the Danish troops in the open battle- 
field, but to the tactics necessar}^ to the pro- 
tracted siege of a fortress-town like Stockholm 
his unskilled forces were unequal. They needed 
military discipline and practice in the use of 
arms. The weapons they were armed with were 
those they had used in agriculture or the chase : 
the ax, witli which they cut down their moun- 
tain trees ; the bow and sling, with which they 


160 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


brought down the ptarmigan ; the pike, which 
served them to guard their flocks from wolf and 
bear. 

But Gustavus Ericsson’s eye and hand were 
everywhere. Reckoning upon Liibeck’s former 
offer of help, he had already applied to the Hansa 
town for a supply of fire-arms, and now himself 
began to train the inexperienced Yale men in the 
art of musketry. Leaders, chosen out by him, 
were sent out to all parts of the country to call 
the inhabitants to rise and train themselves into 
a fighting community. In every direction there 
started up small bodies of disciplined men, who, 
uniting together, attacked the smaller Danish 
garrisons and mastered them. Soon the whole 
lowlands were in the hands of the Liberator, and 
Christian’s commanders found themselves com- 
pelled to retreat into fortressed towns, choosing 
out seaports, like Stockholm, which could be 
continually re-enforced by the Danish fleet with 
men and provisions. 

Brita Stenbock was right. 

Within a few short weeks all Sweden had be- 
come a Torpa, and King Christian was gazing 
with gnashing teeth from his palace windows of 
Copenhagen, upon the Sound, which he had 
been obliged to cross again, because his re- 
fractory nobles had seized the occasiou of his 
absence to excite the disaffection of the Dan- 
ish people against his tyranny in his own 
kingdom. 

However numerous, or small, were the com- 
panies of men fighting in scattered directions for 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


161 


Sweden’s freedom, they all readily enrolled them- 
selves under Vasa’s command, proclaiming him 
the ruler and leader of themselves and the 
Swedish nation. Thus Upsala became their 
headquarters ; that ancient capital where, in the 
early days of history, the mighty race of the 
Ynglingers had reigned. The city was no longer 
built on the old site, but at some miles distant ; 
a village, hidden under a grove of lime-trees, 
alone marked the spot where the ruins of the 
whilom capital of Scandinavia now lay, grass- 
grown and neglected. Among its scant houses 
rose an ancient church, with square granite 
towers ; a Runic stone, let into the choir, bears 
an inscription in a tongue unknown to present 
generations. Close by the church, however, are 
three high hills, the “King’s Hills,” still dedi- 
cated by the country-folk to Thor, Freya and 
Odin; probably barrows of the Ynglingers, 
legendary witnesses to the period when the gods 
of Walhalla descended to found kingdoms and 
embrace the fair daughters of earth. Now thick 
beech-groves rustle on their, summits, scattering 
their leaves over the rough-hewn granite blocks, 
pillows of the grim heroes who have made their 
last resting-places at their feet. 

Sitting upon one of those huge stones, and 
looking through the tree-stems eastward, one 
looks upon the gray giant citadel of Upsala, 
whose aspect at once betrays that it was built by 
strong Gothic hand. Its double towers rise over 
the dark “Skog,” the Swedish primeval forest 
which covers the vast plain with its tangled 


U2 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


masses of pine and fir-trees, alders and birches. 
Here and there a clearing along the verge forms 
the road, well made for the period, from Old 
Upsala to the new town, and granite blocks 
rest on masses of red porphyry, lie heaped pell- 
mell among the crumbled moss-grown rocks, 
with now and then a solitary fern lifting up 
its melancholy crest among the ruins. Yet a 
scorching midsummer sun, defying the northern 
latitude, lay over it all, making the few miles 
seem endless to the wayfarer ere he reached the 
Cathedral of Upsala, whose majestic nave tow- 
ered like a giant among dwarfs, amid the almost 
general one- storied houses of the town. These 
were without exception built of v/ood, roofed 
with the gray bark of the birch. Monotonous 
as a northern sky was the appearance of Upsala, 
in which, half a century before, Sten Sture the 
elder had founded the first Swedish University. 
How, for many a year, the Academic Chairs had 
stood deserted ; the voice of learning had been 
silenced by the clang of arms, amid which the 
present generation had grown up; and mourn- 
ing alike its ancient and later glories, the houses 
of the old capital grouped themselves round the 
Cathedral, the one remembrance of its proud 
past. Grass grew upon the pavements, no longer 
trod by the students’ feet, more wont to hurry 
from than to the seat of learning. Silent and 
melancholy, as was Nature without her walls, 
lay Upsala. Few were the inmates to be seen 
in her streets ; and those there were passed each 
other by with nervous, hurried greeting. 


KAKIN OP SWEDEN. 


163 


So it had been until the past few weeks; but 
one month of summer had availed to change the 
face of things. As it had clothed wood and field 
with smiling garb of green, so, as by a touch of 
the magician’s wand, had it changed the de- 
serted aspect of the town. E'ow the streets were 
thronged with people of most varied appearance. 
The knotty foreheads and fair hair smoothly 
parted in the middle marked the Dalecarlians, 
whose commanding stature seemed almost ^ to 
overtop the lo w houses. With more grace did 
the supple sons of Gothland and Ingermanland 
move among them; while it was easy to dis- 
tinguish amid the crowd the more intelligent 
features of the dwellers in towns, whose inter- 
course with the world beyond the Baltic had 
taught them more civilized Teutonic manners. 
In their costumes of richer stuff they seemed to 
seek the society of those whose dress and speech 
betrayed the foreigner. These latter were the 
deputation from Llibeek, embassadors of the 
Upper House of Hansa, who had landed in 
ISTorrtelge, to bring to the adversaries of their 
ancient rivals in the Baltic a supply of fire- 
arms, and to form an opinion as to the impor- 
tance and enduring powers of the rebellion ; as 
also of the personality of its leader. With an 
air of wise, business-like reserve they had come ; 
but scon the contagion of the general enthusiasm 
had affected them also ; and in the accounts they 
sent back to the Trave every trace of mistrust in 
the success of a cause undertaken by Gustavus 
Ericsson had fled. Often they were to be seen 


164 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


with him in public ; still more often, in the dusk 
of evening, repairing to the modest dwelling in 
v/hich he lived, seldom quitting it until the 
small hours. At other times they would mix 
gayly with him among the people, admiring 
with no business-like gaze the comely maidens of 
Upland and Gefleborg, who, with their sea-blue 
eyes and low foreheads, crowned with a wealth 
of fair plaits hanging down their backs, pushed 
unabashed through the crowded streets, laugh- 
ingly receiving in the general holiday feeling 
many a too open expression of admiration, which 
when necessity required, they were not back- 
ward in repulsing with a strong hand. By day 
the camp erected in the fields adjacent to the 
town would be glittering with men undergoing 
their drills in the use of the various weapons; 
Gustavus V asa himself exercising his eager fol- 
lowers. Riders upon their thick-set, short-maned, 
wiry horses, were to be seen firing from morning 
to night with the new-fangled arms which were 
the terror of the older men ; the Lubeckers,in their 
freehanded wisdom, not having restricted them- 
selves to the sending of muskets, but, unheeding 
the cost, having, accompanied them with such a 
splendid store of ammunition that it would have 
been sufficient to serve an entire army for a war 
of some years’ duration. 

The house accommodation of Upsala was 
strained to the utmost to take in the number of 
civil and military guests who swarmed thither 
from north and south. But there was not an in- 
mate who did not joyously turn out every nook and 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


165 


corner for the recepti on of the deliverers. A spirit 
of admirable order, of northern uprightness and 
sobriety, reigned throughout the densely packed 
town; only of an evening, when the arduous 
military exercises were over, did the streets re- 
sound with song, principally the new “Brunn- 
back’ ’ ditty, thus marking it was eventide while 
the sun, until an hour before midnight, was still 
high in the heavens. 

But all noise and song is silenced, all heads 
are uncovered — the women lift their children in 
their arms, bolder maidens push their way in 
among the men, and the eyes of old people 
glisten with youthful ardor whenever Gustavus 
Vasa’s tall figure is seen approaching. 

And so they do novv", as, in plain dress, and 
hardly taller than the men of his escort, yet with 
an inexpressible air of distinction about him 
making it easy for the merest stranger to iden- 
tify him, Gustavus Vasa rides along. 

It was the same face which, by Trollhatta, 
on that November evening, had first met Karin 
Stenbock’s; only the brow more thoughtful, and, 
despite his youth, showing sign of many a fur- 
row and shadow. A deep wound on the right 
temple too had left a broad scar, not looking as 
if caused by any sharp weapon of war ; rather as 
though burned in, the hair about it seeming to 
be singed. Yet it detracted in no way from the 
manly beauty of his appearance, rather it height- 
ened the imposing energy of his features and the 
fine eyes, which either reflected a whole world 
of thought, or, when half closed in meditation, 


166 


KARIN OF SWEDEN, 


seemed to conceal it. No one could penetrate to 
the depths of those eyes, neither the true-hearted, 
simple Dalecarlians, nor the more wily merchant- 
diplomats of Germany. He who thought to know 
Gustavus Ericsson’s most secret thoughts found 
himself often greatly at fault. 

Nor did his escort, this afternoon, understand 
their commander, as they remained full an hour 
surrounding him, in the full blaze of a July mid- 
day sun, at the northern extremity of the town, 
while he, the indefatigable, sat motionless in the 
saddle, looking with unswerving gaze in the di- 
rection of Gefie. He must have been expecting 
some unusual arrival from that port that he, 
who hardly allowed himself rest at night and 
left not a minute of his day unoccupied, should 
so control his naturally impatient spirit, and, 
sunk in deep thought, appear to be oblivious of 
the flight of time. His escort exchanged in 
whispers their surmises as to the cause of his 
waiting, agreeing that it could only portend 
something of extremest importance; perhaps a 
messenger from Russia, or the arrival of a con- 
tingent of troops from friendly Liibeck. Yet the 
Hanseatic deputation knew nothing of any such 
aid; although, on the other hand, they were 
quite prepared to hear that the young general’s 
all-seeing eyes, looking beyond them, had power 
to penetrate the secret councils of the ancient 
Trave City, from which proceeded might, in- 
fluence, and, above all, the sterling Ltibeck coin 
so richly harvested by its trade with the East. 
Thus they all were scarce less expectant than 


KARIN OF SWEDEN, 


167 


was their general, as they, like him, looked anx- 
iously along the sun-scorched road to Gefle. 

ISFow a more eager look appeared on Gustavus 
Vasa’s face, and a minute later the others be- 
came aware of a dark speck approaching along 
the dusty highwa3^, slowly magnifying, until it 
became apparent to all eyes that it was the very 
unusual sight, in those parts, of an open travel- 
ing-carriage, of heavy build, drawn by a pair of 
strong horses. Two ladies sat facing 'them. One 
with silver- white hair, looking straight before 
her into the full blaze of the. sun; the other, 
whose golden hair rivaled the rays of that sun, 
with eyes downcast, looking nervously from side 
to side. IsTow the carriage rolled past the group 
of waiting horsemen. With a certain amount of 
curiosity, but no special interest, some glanced 
at its occupants, while others continued their 
low conversation. Gustavus Vasa, with eager 
movement, raised his hat, bowing down to his 
horse’s mane. 

In a second every head was uncovered, all 
ej^es turned with instinctive astonishment on the 
face of the young girl, who had been the recipi- 
ent of the general’s deferential and marked salu- 
tation. Without slackening speed, the carriage 
had passed on. Flushing crimson, the lovely 
girl had silentl}^ returned the eager bow, as for 
an instant her eyes of deepest blue rested upon 
the horseman’s face. Then he, turning his horse, 
rode slowly back toward the town. 

It was evident that that was all. Gustavus 
Vasa had waited for hours inactive, in order to 


168 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


bow to a lady, and to receive a bow from her in 
return. With lightning speed the news spread 
in Upsala; and now it was the women’s turn 
to indulge in surmises and suppositions. But 
no one knew who was the lovely stranger, or 
whither she had gone. All that could be gath- 
ered was that the carriage, skirting the town, 
had turned off eastward, taking the road toward 
Old Upsala. It was still early afternoon when 
it reached its destination. Close by the ancient 
church-tower was a pretty house of more pre- 
tension than the others in the village ; there the 
carriage drew up. Men and maid* servants, 
standing in the entrance, received the newcom- 
ers with silent deference. Leaning upon her 
daughter’s arm, Brita Stenbock descended from 
the carriage, and entered the house. 

Had those piercing eyes of Gustavus Yasa 
overseen everything here too? With delicate 
thought all had been arranged for the comfort of 
the ladies that even Torpa could have offered, 
though on a smaller scale and with less of north- 
ern rigidity. The furniture and hangings be- 
spoke the wealth and foreign relations of some 
great merchant city rather than Swedish sim- 
plicity. Had Gustavus Yasa then, while solicit- 
ing muskets and soldiers for the relief of Sweden, 
bethought him of fitting up a bower for the 
Hose of Trollhatta, whom he had torn from her 
home surroundings? 

In truth this bower was more befitting her 
than the rough wilderness in which she had been 
sojourning, now here, now there, since that 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


169 


night in which she had taken flight over the 
Gota-Elf with the jackdaws. She had not set 
eyes upon Gustavus Vasa since she had bid him 
farewell as his boat receded. Horses were in 
readiness, and her father had lifted her on to 
the saddle. Riding all night, by day they took 
refuge in lonely, scattered houses, whose inmates, 
informed beforehand of their coming, offered 
them ready hospitality. 

Thus they had reached the wild, rocky moun- 
tains which form the boundary between Sweden 
and hTorway. But even here they were not safe; 
wherever there was a Danish garrison orders 
had gone out to seize their persons, by the 
King’s express command, a high price being set 
“upon the head of Karin Stenbock, whether liv- 
ing or dead.” And now they pursued their 
way through the deep snow-covered mountains, 
ever further north. The way was difficult and 
arduous, taxing even a man’s strength ; yet Ka- 
rin seemed to feel neither the fatigue, nor the 
cold and privation. With astonishment the 
hardy peasants looked at her delicate, girlish 
figure, which bid defiance to stormiest weather, 
hunger, or rough paths ; while many a one, who 
had turned a deaf ear to manly persuasions, in- 
spired by Karin’s enthusiasm, would throw aside 
plow or spade, and repair to Dalecarlia, where 
report said Sweden’s deliverers were assem- 
bling. 

“I bid you, in the name of Gustavus Vasa,” 
Karin would say, with glowing cheeks, and pass 


on. 


170 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


When father and daughter came to long, 
lonely valleys, with nothing but their own 
thoughts to fall back upon, their way was dreary 
and mournful indeed. They knew nothing of 
what had happened since their flight from Torpa ; 
nothing of the fate of the blind wife and mother, 
a prey to Christian’s cruel vengeance. ISTot until 
they had crossed the Clara- Elf did a messenger 
reach them, bringing tidings of Brita Stenbock’s 
rescue, who then was on her way to join them 
in the north by ship. 

Shudderingly Karin heard the messenger’s re- 
cital of how Gustavus Vasa and his four com- 
panions had awaited the departure of the Danes 
in the subterranean passage, and how he, at last, 
in his anxiety, braving the danger of certain 
death, had cautiously made his way among the 
dead bodies, and lying down among them, had 
heard what was passing. But even he had no 
idea of all that was to happen. He only heard 
that Brita Stenbock and Gustavus Rosen were 
to be bound together and left behind in the de- 
serted Castle. 

Kext, he heard the noise below of the 
King’s departure; and immediately after the 
red glare of torches fell across his face, coming 
nearer and nearer; a heavy, iron-nailed boot 
trod over his chest, there was a sound of crack- 
ling and roaring, and a suffocating smoke filled 
the corridor. Then, forgetting caution, heedless 
whether in the presence of enemies or not, he 
rushed toward the door of the room. As he tore 
it open he could scarce distinguish altar, or the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN 


171 


two forms bound upon it, for the volumes cf 
smoke. 

A moment later, and his sword would have 
cut their bonds too late; his arm, aided by 
that of Rosen, been too late to carry Brita Sten- 
bock through the burning passage. Beams were 
tumbling on every side of them, a burning log 
fell with great force on Vasa’s forehead, yet he 
succeeded in reaching the door of the subterra- 
nean passage with his burden, where, overcome 
by his superhuman efforts, he sank senseless in 
the arms of the faithful Dalecarlians so anxiously 
awaiting him. There they had to wait what 
seemed an eternity for the friendly shelter of 
night to reach unseen and unharmed the Gota- 
Elf, whence they were now continuing their 
course up the Wener Lake. 

In breathless silence Stenbock and his daugh- 
ter listened, with mingled tears of joy and sor- 
row. 

Their home was devastated. Even as Brita 
Stenbock’s eyes would never see it more, so 
theirs would never rest on it again. Yet what 
was Torpa compared with Sweden’s freedom? 
Sweden must henceforth be their home. To Ka- 
rin it seemed to come as an admonition from 
above that henceforth she must belong to her 
country, not only to the narrow space of earth 
on which her childhood’s dreams had been 
passed. 

And what was the destruction of the home 
compared with her mother’s life, which they 
had deemed hopelessly lost, and which had been 


172 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


saved by Gustavus Vasa at the risk of his own? 
A crimson flush suffused the girl’s cheeks at 
this last thought. Did she recall the words 
spoken in Trollhatta’s hearing: “This hand is 
free, Gustavus Ericsson, and belongs to him who 
shall bring two things to pass.” 

“Sweden’s future be upon you, if it be lost 
for a woman’s sake,” had been Gustavus 
Vasa’s answer, as he had sprung into the 
boat. 

Had he fulfilled one of those two conditions? 
Karin’s feverish cheeks, now hot, now cold, said 
yes. What had been the second? Oould he 
fulfill that also? And if he did, and having done 
so, came to her and said: “It is done, Karin” — 
what then? 

Then surely he had full, uncontested right to 
the reward which the eyes, those other eyes of 
Karin Stenbock, had promised him — to the hand 
he sought. And why not? The eyes which 
had a heart to give are forever quenched. No 
ray proceeded from them when the messenger 
told what had befallen Gustavus Rosen ; her lips 
did not open to utter one word of inquiry con- 
cerning him. The light of those eyes is quenched, 
as are the flames at Torpa ; the heart has become 
ashes, as are its ruins. Yet the embers under 
those ashes of Torpa are still glowing,, Karin. 
One standing by them might deem them all 
burned out and dead ; for the storm which has 
passed over them has subdued the hidden coal 
which, all unsuspected, still glows within its 
depths. But when the storm is over, when the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


173 


smoke disperses, and all again is still, when low 
and soft the breath of a summer breeze stirs the 
dead ashes — then the slumbering embers wake 
again. 

And on went Karin by her father’s side, 
awaking the embers sleeping under Sweden’s 
ashes, with the cry : 

“I bid you, in the name of Gustavus Vasa, the 
deliverer of Sweden!” 

' And again a thrill, half hot, half cold, passed 
over her. When Gustavus Vasa had accom- 
plished Sweden’s freedom, would he have ful- 
filled that second condition to which the Troll- 
hatta had borne witness? 

Not until they had reached West Dalecarlia 
did Karin meet her mother. There Stenbock 
left her, to join the army Gustavus Ericsson had 
raised. In feverish excitement Karin made the 
resolve to assume man’s attire and take her part 
in the one most righteous aim. Care for her 
blind mother seemed to her less sacred than that 
desire, which even her father’s strong will had 
no power to upset. In his perplexity he secretly 
applied to Gustavus Vasa to lay his commands 
upon Karin to give up her determination. As 
Sweden’s General, wrote this latter, he required 
unreserved obedience from all who aspired to 
serve the fatherland. He, on his side, was car- 
rying out Karin’s wishes, and expected her to 
respect his will. It was his desire that she and 
her rnother should now repair to Old Upsala, 
where a house had been prepared by him for 


174 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


their reception. A carriage would await them 
at Gefle. The times of their departure and ar- 
rival in Upsala were minutely given. Gustavus 
Vasa’s active mind grasped and ordered ail 
things, small as well as great. 

Thus they arrived at the house by the church 
in Upsala. Uothing in it needed arrangement 
or alteration. As though prepared by a woman’s 
thoughtful hand, every corner of the dwelling 
told of careful supervision and refined taste. 
Uay, it told more, when one refiected that the 
ordering hand had been a man’s and not a 
woman’s. When one, moreover, pondered over 
the fact thaf that ordering hand had been the one 
in which lay Sweden’s future, the conclusion 
must be that the fitting up of the lime-shad- 
owed house by the church of Old Upsala be- 
trayed more than careful supervision and refined 
taste; more, even, than a feeling of gratitude 
and of friendship. 

And this was Karin’s reflection as, toward 
evening, she meditatively walked out into the 
open air. She had spent the afternoon sitting by 
the windovf in uneasy musing, her eyes fixed 
upon the road by which they had come from 
Upsala. As though the excitement of the past 
few months had affected her nerves, she started 
at every noise — the chance opening of a door, or 
sound of a strange voice. Only as evening came 
on did her agitation subside, and going out into 
the garden which surrounded the house, she 
passed through it into the adjoining field. 
Amazed, she looked at the three King’s Hills 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


r75 


which rose before her, and asked an old villa- 
ger what they were and what called. Then, 
pursuing her way through the long, flower- 
bedecked grass of the meadow, she thought- 
fully ascended Odin’s Hill, the center one of 
the three. 

The vast granite block on the edge of which 
she sat down was thickly bestrewn with last 
year’s fallen leaves. It might have served as 
the Stone of Sacrifice when the hill commanded 
the surrounding country ; doubtless the ancient 
Runic slab let into the church wall she had 
noticed as she passed told its history. It was a 
sanctuarj^ in which, oblivious of the present, to 
think back upon the past and turn one’s thoughts 
to the future. What mattered the happiness or 
sorrow of the individual in that great flood 
which bears centuries and tens of centuries upon 
its bosom to carry them along with it? How 
many voices had resounded about this stone 
when the mighty beeches whose summits were 
swaying in the evening breeze were but begin- 
ning to send forth their fibers into the earth? 
Who, in ihe lapse of centuries, and tens of cen- 
turies, would know anything of her who now sat 
there, looking out into the world as though it 
knew her aims? Not for enjoyment, nor for 
choice, but for duty are we placed in this 
world; to be helpful to others, and do what 
is right, even if it entail struggle and self- 
sacrifice. 

Karin’s lips murmured these last words half 
aloud. It was late evening, but the sun still 


176 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


stood high in the heavens, shedding the curious, 
melancholy green horizontal light of a northern 
evening over the silent valley, the inhabitants of 
which had already gone to rest, to prepare for 
the next day’s toil, to which the red glow in the 
east would soon call them. There was some- 
thing strange and melancholy in sitting there 
looking dawn on to the sleeping valley, illumi- 
nated by broad daylight. Over the dark pine 
woods shone the distant spire, with its four 
gilded balls, of the Cathedral of Upsala, throw- 
ing their dazzling reflection into Karin’s medi- 
tative eyes. 

“What is the subject of your thoughts, Rose 
of Trollhatta?” asked a voice suddenly behind 
her. 

Starting convulsively, she turned and faced 
Gustavus Ericsson. She had scarce seen him 
since the night she had saved him by means of 
the subterranean passage at Torpa, and had torn 
herself from his impetuous embrace. Since then 
Destiny had changed their parts ; through that 
same passage he had carried her unconscious 
form when saving her from Christian’s ven- 
geance. 

He had done far more; her sudden blush told 
how distinct was the remembrance; and yet 
she stood motionless, as she had formerly done 
at Trollhatta, when his strong arm had saved 
her for the first time. Her eyes wandered un- 
certainly over the broad scar upon his forehead, 
over his tall, noble-looking figure ; yet her lips 
uttered no sound, and a look of disappointment 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


177 


clouded his face, as it had then done. The 
happy, joyous expression it had first worn dis- 
appeared; and it was in a changed, hard, yet 
unsteady voice that he resumed : 

“Do I again deserve no thanks, Karin? Do I 
still not deserve your hand?” 

She misunderstood him. Her lips trembled ; 
scarce audibly she murmured, hesitatingly : 

“Sweden is not yet free.” 

“You are right. You, at least, shall be so,” 
he exclaimed, in a voice agitated and unspeak- 
ably bitter, controlling with stern mastery the 
twitching of his features. “You would remind 
me that he who stakes his life for the cause of 
freedom should not do so for the sake of the re- 
ward ; that he who fights for a people’s freedom 
must not endanger that of the individual. I give 
you back your word, Karin Stenbock, whether 
Sweden become free or not. Words have grown 
light as air since Christian of Denmark was in 
Torpa. Fare you well ! ” And before she had 
collected her thoughts to reply, he had turned 
and reached the foot of Odin's Hill; there, 
swinging himself on his horse, he galloped furi- 
ously along the road to Upsala, Karin standing 
pale as death, as she watched him disappear. 
His horse was rearing and plunging, as if in 
fear, plainly showing the uncontrollable agita- 
tion of his rider. 

This time the distance between them was too 
great ; ere Karin, recovering herself, could utter 
a trembling “Gustavus Yasa!” he was too far 


178 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


off to hear it. An unspeakable feeling of dread 
came over her, the sleeping valley and the mid- 
night sun turned round before her eyes. “Words 
have grown light as air since Christian of Den- 
mark was in Torpa,” she murmured, staggering 
a few steps back. Then suddenly all strength 
forsook her, and helplessly throwing out her 
arms, she fell prone by the ancient stone of 
sacrifice. 

The next day Karin sought the same spot; 
but Gustavus Vasa came not. Day after day 
she sat on the Odin Stone, looking with eyes, 
large and immovable, in the direction of Upsala. 
She heard no sound but the rustle of the leaves 
overhead; the days were like years, so slowly 
did they pass ; no news of the outer world reached 
her up there, nor did she desire any. She was 
busied with the world within her, and the leaves 
helped her .as, weary from the summer’s heat, 
they fell about her on the stone of sacrifice. 
Weeks passed. Everywhere, even to the shores 
of the Baltic, the Swedish arms were conquerors. 
Stockholm alone still stood out, and was invested 
by a strong army, aided by a contingent of allied 
forces from Lubeck. 

The surrender of the town was hourly ex- 
pected. Suddenly a cry of horror ran through- 
out Sweden, spreading with lightning speed 
from place to place. Gustavus Ericsson’s mother 
and sisters, who had been detained as prisoners 
in Stockholm from the beginning of the War of 
Liberation, had, by command of Christian of 
Denmark, been foully murdered. Even to Old 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


179 


Upsala the news spread. It was toward even- 
ing when Karin heard it ; her informant adding 
that since he had received the intelligence Gus- 
tavus Yasa had been seen by no one. The great- 
est consternation reigned in Upsala; for he had 
shut himself up, refused meat and drink, and 
would see no one. Those listening long at his 
door maintained that they had heard Gustavus 
Ericsson weeping; but those who knew him 
would not give it credence. 

Yfithout remark, Karin slowly wended her 
usual way to the Odin Hill. Sitting upon the 
Runic Stone, as was her custom, she looked to- 
ward the west until the balls of the Cathedral 
tower of Upsala began to glitter in the evening 
sun; then, throwing herself on her knees before 
the Stone of Sacrifice, she laid her head upon the 
cold granite. Rising, she calmly descended the 
hill-side, not toward her dwelling, but in the 
direction of Upsala; and walked along the road, 
neither hurriedly nor slowly, until, having 
reached the town, she asked at the entrance gate 
for Gustavus Vasa’s house. A little girl volun- 
teered to show her the way to it. The officers 
standing about in the hall, harassed and per- 
plexed, made way for her in amazement, and in 
reply to her question, shrugging their shoulders, 
pointed out to her the room in which their gen- 
eral had shut himself up, obstinately refusing to 
admit his most trusted friends. Quietly knock- 
ing at the door, she said: “Karin Stenbock de- 
sires to speak with Gustavus Yasa.” And to 
the speechless astonishment of the bystanders 


180 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


the obstinately locked door opened instantly, as 
if of its own accord. As quickly did Karin close 
it behind her, saying, as she looked earnestly 
into the pale, convulsed features of the man 
standing before her : 

“The word of a Swedish woman is not like 
that of Christian of Denmark. I will be mother 
and sister to you, Gustavus Yasa.’’ 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


181 


CHAPTER VIII. 

It was antumn again. A whole year had 
gone by since Gustavus Ericsson had first met 
the Rose of Trollhatta. Much evil and misery 
had in that time been caused to Sweden by 
Christian of Denmark; much joy and consola- 
tion had Gustavus Ericsson been the means of 
spreading over it, since the earth had run its 
course round the sun, and autumn had once 
more come round — a warm, sunny autumn of 
the north. 

Under the high, whitish-blue canopy spread by 
the heavens over Upsala towered the golden balls 
of the Cathedral spire, glittering afar, in the 
slanting rays of the midday sun, over the ever- 
green trees of the primeval forest, over rocky 
crags and brushwood, even to the lofty tree- 
tops, tinged golden-brown, of the King’s Hill, 
and to the mirror-like Lake beyond. All seemed 
bathed in blue and gold, heaven and earth alike. 
And as radiant was the joy reflected in the blue 
eyes of the men, women and maidens of Upsala. 
Over two miles long was the procession crowding 
along the broad road leading to Stockholm ; not 
from Upsala alone came the people, but from 


182 


KABIN OF SWEDEN. 


west and south of the Swedish kingdom, even 
to the ice-bound shores of Norrlaiid and Norr- 
botten. Expectantly every head was turned to- 
ward the south. From that direction he was 
coming — “he” none needed to name him of 
whom they, spoke — no longer “the leader and 
captain of the common Swedish nation,” but the 
King of Sweden, Gustavus Vasa. 

For a week past the “nobles and commons of 
the Swedish Kingdom” had held parliament at 
Strengnas; two days had passed since the as- 
sembled parliament had elected Gustavus Erics- 
son to be King of Sweden. 

And now he comes ; his countenance radiant, 
with look more gentle than his subjects had ever 
seen him wear before. The warmth, the glory, 
the sunny joyousness of that autumn day lay 
over him. In kingly apparel, his ermine mantle 
hanging down the sides of the horse which bore 
him so proudly, he rode beside the milk-white 
steed of Karin Stenbock, “the royal bride of 
Sweden.” She too bowed sweetly, right and 
left. She wore no ermine, but the rejoicing peo- 
ple acclaimed her perhaps the more for her great 
loveliness and the wealth of golden hair which 
streamed about her from under the golden circlet 
on her brow. So had ridden Freya upon her 
golden-maned steed from out the gates of Wal- 
halla to give light to earth, as Karin of Sweden 
makes her entry into Upsala. So Freya suffered 
her divine eyes to rest upon the faces of those to 
whom she came to bring happiness, and, looking 
upon them, smiled. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


183 


Suddenly the smile fades from Karin’s lips, 
and a thoughtful, strangely grave expression 
passes over the sweet face. Hastily she raises 
her white arm resting upon her horse’s mane. 
Something comes flitting toward her, borne upon 
the still air, and she seizes it with her hand — a 
white butterfly, with brilliant red spots upon its 
wings. Fearlessly it sits upon her hand, spread- 
ing out its exquisitely shaped wings as though 
resting upon the edge of a flower. The women, 
seeing it, point it out to the men; the royal but- 
terfly of the mountains has come down to the 
vale to greet Sweden’s Queen. 

Why looks Sweden’s Queen so absently, so 
dreamily at the white butterfly, last messenger 
of summer, that she is oblivious of the silent re- 
joicings of the crowd as they welcome the peace- 
ful omen? Does her ear hearken in the still air 
for sounds out of the west? Is there in it an 
echo, soft, very soft, and oh, so far distant, of 
the roar of the Trollhatta? 

No ; the Trollhatta is too far away. It is the 
rustle of the beeches on Odin’s Hill, as they wave 
their greeting to Karin’s thoughtful gaze, sway- 
ing in the autumn breeze against the sky. A 
roll of drums, as the procession reaches the first 
house in Upsala, causes the royal bride to start 
out of her dream. The mayor, surrounded by 
the corporation, bending his knee before his 
King, greets him with loyal address, patiently 
listened to by the Sovereign, but who, as evi- 
dently, breathes a sigh of relief when it comes 
to an end. The procession continues its course. 


184 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


all know whither; the streets through which it 
passes are changed into a forest, the ground into 
one monster carpet of green rushes and fir cones. 
Now the ancient Cathedral rises majestically be- 
fore them. Under the principal entrance the 
Archbishop of Upsala stands, in full canonicals, 
awaiting them, surrounded by all his clergy. A 
tall, reverend-looking priest, it was evident from 
his whole appearance that he took a very differ- 
ent view of the solemnity of his office from that 
which Pope Julius the Second’s legate had done, 
now going throughout Germany to collect in- 
dulgences. 

Despite his long ermine mantle, the young 
King threw himself lightly from his steed, then 
lifted Karin from hers. Both bowed to the 
Archbishop, who, raising his hand in blessing 
over their heads, preceded them up the aisle to 
the altar. In marvelous beauty and purity of 
form rose the Gothic pillars, tall and slim, as 
though they were bundles of sheaves, to the 
giddy height above, where they supported the 
ancient baldachino-shaped roof of the nave. 
Through the rose-shaped panes of the colored 
windows was diffused a subdued, soft light, 
which melted curiously into the blaze of the 
countless wax candles adorning the altar, cov- 
ered with altar-cloth of rich golden embroidery. 
The retinue of the royal pair took up a large 
portion of the vast Cathedral; and behind it 
thronged a dense mass crowding every available 
space, climbing even in breakneck hardihood to 
the stone copings of the lofty windows in their 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


185 


endeavor to catch a glimpse from outside of what 
was going on within. ¥or within the magnates 
of the land were celebrating the marriage of 
King “Gosta” with Karin Stenbock. 

But just as the solemn function was about to 
commence, a messenger, making his way through 
the press of people to the King, whispered some- 
thing in his ear, which so greatly moved him 
that, with abrupt apology, and assurance that 
he would quickly return, Gustavus Yasa, follow- 
ing the messenger, left the Cathedral. Wonder- 
ingly the throng looked after him, leaving his 
lovely bride thus standing beside her father and 
blind mother; and an eager whispering ran 
through the holy edifice. But it was as quickly 
silenced, for in a very few minutes the King re- 
appeared. With radiant expression he advanced 
to the archbishop, as he said : 

“Grant me permission, Your Grace, to precede 
you in your address. The words I am about to 
speak will not desecrate the altar before which 
we stand, for they are sacred, and come as much 
by grace of God as those which will proceed from 
you.” 

And mounting the steps of the altar, he said, 
in a loud, clear voice which resounded through- 
out the building : 

“Heaven sends two greetings to the people of 
Sweden. Stockholm is ours. At sunrise this 
morning the Danish commander delivered up 
the keys of the capital.” 

As with one voice a tremendous cheer burst 


186 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


from every lip. The last, long-hoped-for goal 
was reached — Sweden was free. The passion- 
ate joy of the multitude was not to be stilled. 
People embraced and kissed each other; thou- 
sand-voiced rose the cry to the lofty aisle, and 
ascending to the very roof, reverberated back 
again : 

‘ ‘ Long live Gusta vus ! S weden is free ! ’ ’ 

“And will remain so,” rose Gustavus Yasa’s 
voice, at length, above the rejoicings; “for I 
have yet another tiding for the people of Swe- 
den. My envoy, whom I dispatched to the 
Emperor Charles the Fifth, has returned. The 
German Emperor breaks off his alliance with 
his brother-in-law. King Christian of Denmark. 
He recognizes Sweden as a separate kingdom, 
and offers it his friendship ; while the Danish 
people, rising against King Christian, have 
forced him, abject and despised, to flee the 
country. ’ ’ 

And now a voice was plainly heard through 
the jubilant acclaim which followed the words. 
It was the voice of Brita Stenbock, saying : 

“I see you, Christian of Denmark, powerless, 
deserted, despised, abhorred. I see you striking 
your pallid forehead, laden with your people’s 
curses and the scorn of men, against your prison 
walls. I see the ghosts of Stockholm jeer and 
laugh at you through the iron bars of your win- 
dow, and how they strike terror into your abject 
soul, frightening you back to life, because you 
fear the Throne upon which you do not sit, and 
before which you are arraigned ! One half has 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


187 


been fulfilled, Christian of Denmark, the other 
awaits you!” 

A shudder ran through all present, so demoni- 
acal was the laugh with which the blind woman 
accompanied the words ; its hard, uncompromis- 
ing tones striking against the pillars like win- 
ter’s ice broken up by the Falls of Trollhatta, to 
be dashed against the rocky promontories of its 
shores. Brita Stenbock’s eyes were dimmed, but 
her hatred was not dead. Over land and sea it 
followed her mortal enemy, startling him out of 
exhaustion, sleep and despair; driving him on 
ever further to his destruction. 

For one moment Brita Stenbock stood, a very 
specter of vengeance, erect upon the prison win- 
dows of the future, staring like the dead of 
Stockholm into Christian’s maddened features 
— then she fell back exhausted into her daugh- 
ter’s arms. She quickly recovered herself ; but 
her agitation had communicated itself to Karin, 
whose eyes were sparkling with a singular light 
as the King, now taking her hand, led her to the 
altar, whispering: 

“And so the second condition is fulfilled the 
very instant before I make you mine, Bose of 
Trollhatta — Sweden is free!” 

She did not look at him ; she only said : 

“Yes, every condition is fulfilled now. Swe- 
den is free.” 

“And you are its Queen.” 

He felt a quiver run through her ; a quiver of 
mingled pride and fear. 


188 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Firmly she advanced upon the velvet carpet 
spread before the altar. 

“In the name of Almighty God, I greet you, 
King Gustavus of Sweden, who have been chosen 
as their King by the nobles and commoners of 
this nation. Many races of kings have come 
and gone in this sacred spot. A priesthood of 
another faith, the faith of the mighty sons of 
Odin, placed the crown upon the heads of the 
Ynglingers. Yet they fell as autumn leaves, 
and their memory is forgotten. And the haughty 
House of the Folkungs here received the crown 
from the hands of the heralds of the Gospel, and 
were anointed with consecrated oil from Rome. 
But it has ebbed away like the waves of the sea 
leaving no trace behind. Many another has 
come after them, in long succession, with great 
names and haughty mien, from North and from 
South, and they have been anointed and conse- 
crated. But where is their memory now? For 
it is not the anointing oil in the hand of man 
which can make the lowly great, or ennoble the 
mean; it is the Spirit of the living God, who is 
Justice, and Freedom, and Humanity. He alone 
it is who can also enlighten the mighty of the 
earth that their memory may not be lost ; their 
days not flee away like dust before the north 
wind. Therefore I greet you in this ancient 
capital, Gustavus Vasa, and joyfully lifting up 
my hands to the Great King above us all, I give 
Him thanks.” 

Thus began the exhortation of the grayheaded 
archbishop. Given forth from his broad, power- 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


189 


ful, manly chest, the words rolled solemn and 
sonorous over the uncovered heads of the vast 
congregation. As the wind swells the sails so 
did they swell the breast of every Swedish 
hearer, picturing as they did a peaceful, proud 
future to the Fatherland, and good will among 
men. Perhaps upon none did they have a more 
powerful effect than upon Karin Stenbock, thrill- 
ing her every nerve, as she looked up admiringly 
to the noble, majestic figure at her side, to the 
man whom she heard lauded as the instrument 
of Heaven, worshiped of his people, and who 
had chosen her out among them all to finish the 
work with him. After the battle to spread peace 
over Sweden; after the triumph of the sword to 
found the sovereignty of justice, happiness and 
good will among men. Yes, for the first time 
Karin looked proudly and happily upon the white 
ermine which hung from the shoulders of her 
royal consort. It was as- if she heard a murmur 
from it, as from the beeches on Odin’s Hill: “To 
be helpful to others, and serve the right.” 

How differently things had turned out from 
what she had then thought. How differently 
might a queen fulfill the device which the sun’s 
rays were illuminating in the sleeping world of 
her soul from what she had then thought. In 
this case duty was her choice ; her proud, happy 
choice. And proudly and joyously did Karin’s 
eyes rove to the lofty vault above, during the 
archbishop’s exhortation, then rest again upon 
the listening throng about the altar. 

Suddenly, with convulsive start, the azure 


190 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


eyes grew fixed, staring as if bewitched at the 
red porphyry pillar to the right of the altar. 
Daylight did not penetrate there, nor even the 
light of the wax candles; only a reflection of 
both diffused a magic haze about it, half bright, 
half somber, resting strangely upon the head of 
a spectator who, his gaze fixed immovably upon 
the altar, leaned against the pillar. Something 
ghostly as was the light invested the pale counte- 
nance. It was impossible, in the distance, to tell 
whether he was young or old. The features, as 
well as the tall, slender form, were young ; but 
the thick hair, growing low upon the forehead, 
seemed a contradiction; it had once been fair, 
and even now had a golden shade upon it, but 
the appearance was as if it had been strewn with 
ashes, and lifeless as ashes were the e5^es ; more 
lifeless still than Brita Stenbock’s sightless orbs, 
who attentively listens to the archbishop’s ear- 
nest, jubilant words, as though she were seeing 
into the future. 

Many a look among the attentive congregatioii 
had been turned toward the girl who, but a few 
short minutes since, had been made their Queen ; 
thus, following the direction of her eyes, many 
had turned their heads to seek the fortunate per- 
son upon whom those eyes were resting, as they 
whispered : 

“Who can it be leaning against the pillar 
with that remarkable countenance? I quite 
believe the Queen is looking at him.” 

“Silence!” said another, checking the talkers. 
“It is the King’s envoy, just returned from the 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


191 


Emperor of Germany. No wonder he is struck 
at the angel bride our Gosta has found in his 
absence. It is plain to see he has never set eyes 
on such a lovely face before. But hark to the 
Archbishop — the most important part is coming. 
Quiet!” 

The whispering stopped; all eyes were turned 
upon the dignified Prince of the Church, who 
now took from a costly jeweled golden bowl the 
plain gold ring, emblem of faithfulness alike 
of queen and peasant. Karin Stenbock’s eyes 
alone moved not; fixed, as they were, upon the 
expressionless ones of the man leaning against 
the pillar. 

“Karin,” said those mute, lifeless eyes, “on 
the verge of Trollhatta the ancient Bard stood, 
looking down into its mysterious depths. Around 
him was life, the sun shone upon him, the flow- 
ers nodded to him, the birds sang; the while 
his soul quailed at the roaring abyss stretching 
out its white arms to him. How often would 
he not have fled from it ! yet a spell lay over 
him, compelling him to look down into the 
rushing, thundering cataract, until, involunta- 
rily and gradually drawn nearer and nearer, 
vanquished by the Spirits of the Deep, he 
sprang into it, and the dazzling foam closed 
over him.” 

The Archbishop, taking the cold, rigid hand of 
the royal bride, slipped the plain gold ring upon 
her finger. There was breathless silence in the 
Cathedral. 

“Karin,” said the mute, lifeless eyes of the 


192 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


man against the pillar, ‘‘were those the lips 
which said: ‘Do not grow weary, poor Gus- 
tavus. Were your arms ever to grow weary 
and the current to seize me, it might be too 
late, and you unable to save me from it.’ Were 
those the lips that whispered: ‘Do not for- 
sake Karin.’ Was it to Gustavus Rosen that 
they had said: ‘I love you so dearly, Gustavus 
—so dearly’?” 

“Almighty God guard and protect you. King 
and Queen of Sweden. May He guide your 
hearts for your own happiness, and the well- 
being of your country. May He shed the light 
of His countenance upon you, and give you His 
peace.” 

Like any simple yeoman, Gustavus Yasa, 
stooping, kissed his wife. 

As if starting from some long dream, the 
sapphire eyes of the Queen, slowly turning from 
the face by the pillar, wandered vaguely over 
the snow-white, flowing ermine which fell from 
the shoulders of her royal consort. Her feet 
seemed to give way under her; shudderingly, 
she stretched out her arms, and with the terror- 
stricken cry: “You are the Trollhatta!” fell 
swooning into the King’s arms. 

One person alone in all the vast building 
understood her words. Very few, indeed, 
had heard them. The distant crowd only saw 
their young Queen fall fainting into her royal 
husband’s arms, who held her pressed close to 
him. They did not see how lifeless was the 


KARIN OF SAYEDEN. 


193 


^ form the King supported in his strong arms. 
Tenderly he held her, whispering words of 
endearment into her ear. 

“You are to blame for this, our lady mother,” 
he said, turning reproachfully to Brita Sten- 
bock. “What is past is dead, and should sleep. 
Why awake the shadows of Torpa to disturb 
the happiness of to-day?” , 

The blind woman made no answer, but her 
daughter raised herself from her husband’s 
supporting arms. 

“The shadows of Torpa— she repeated, pass- 
ing her hand over her forehead, “as you say, 
are dead — The past is dead, and must 
sleep. ’ ’ 

And taking her royal husband’s arm, Karin 
walked down the aisle with him, with firm step. 
The suite followed closely after them; then the 
dense crowd pressed out with cheers and re- 
joicing. In the space of a few minutes all had 
left the vast Cathedral save the one person who 
alone had understood the Queen’s words. 

He still leaned against the pillar. The altar 
lights were extinguished, the light of day now 
alone came dimly through the colored windows 
of the Cathedral; yet the mute, lifeless eyes still 
rested upon the empty space before the altar. 
So they remained fixed, until the verger, wait- 
ing to close the Cathedral, came up to him 
wonderingly. 

“Are you not well, sir?” he asked at last, re- 
spectfully. 


194 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


Then Gustavus Rosen, with a start, looked at 
him as if collecting' his thoughts, and silently 
left the building. 

Outside, as the bridal procession had crossed 
the Tyriso bridge. King Gustavus, bidding his 
coachman stop an instant, pointed out a green 
eminence on the west side of the town, which, 
overlooking •Upsala, stretched gently away 
toward the south. 

“There we will build our castle and be 
happy together,” said he softly, leaning toward 
his young bride. 

She raised her eyes. 

“Yes; from there we shall overlook the trees 
on Odin’s Hill,” she answered, gravely. 

Now all streamed after the royal pair to the 
house which the town had set apart for the 
marriage feast. 

It was the most stately-looking building 
in Upsala, and, with early dusk, a grand ban- 
quet awaited them in the spacious apartments. 
At the head of the table, upon two chairs bear- 
ing the insignia of royalty, sat the first royal 
couple Sweden had seen for full half a century. 
On Gustavus Yasa’s left sat the benign-looking 
prelate of the kingdom. Much and weighty 
talk, despite the joyous character of the feast, 
did the King exchange with him upon the new 
tone of thought which had arisen in Germany, 
south of the Baltic. The great merchants from 
Liibeck listened with satisfaction to the words 
so oft-recurring in the King’s mouth. Then, 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


195 


raising his goblet, in clear, sonorous tones, he 
exclaimed : 

“My lords and gentlemen of the Swedish na- 
tion ! My first toast shall be to the Freedom of 
this land ! You have learned that it lies not in 
the hands, but in the heads, of a nation. That 
a people at all times can shake itself free of 
slavery, whether its arms be chained or not, so 
that its spirit is enlightened. The Freedom I 
mean, and that I bring to you, does not depend 
upon the fall of Stockholm, nor upon the de- 
thronement of Christian of Denmark. It is not 
a thing of earth; Heaven has committed it to 
one greater than I to publish it far and wide. 
I drink, according to the solemn practice of the 
Fathers, to the spread of the work of the Monk 
of Wittenberg, that it may avail to burst Rom- 
ish fetters, there and here — I drink to Martin 
Luther!” 

Hardly a man, surrounding the long table, 
but sprang up enthusiastically to honor the 
toast. As a lighted spark it went to the soul 
of every one; yet all eyes were fixed in anxious 
expectation upon the tall, venerable figure on 
the King’s left. Then a ringing cheer burst 
from every lip; with firm hand, raising his 
glass, the Archbishop clinked it against Giis- 
tavus Vasa’s, as he said: 

“To the health of Martin Luther! ” 

Karin’s goblet, too, struck her husband’s with 
clear ring. 

And now, according to old Swedish custom, 


196 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


the ‘‘Skals” followed one upon another, many 
and frequent. A singular resemblance, and yet 
a singular contrast, the table presented to that 
which last spring had seen spread in the now 
wrecked wails of Tor pa. Many of the same 
faces were to be seen round it here, but bearing 
what different expressions! A happy freedom 
from care breathed in Stenbock’s powerful face; 
his blind wife, sitting beside him, had lost the 
frigid expression hers had worn for the last 
time in the Cathedral that day; and once again 
by the side of a King of Sweden sat Karin. 

This time not a trembling Karin with fevered 
cheeks, now pale, now flushed; but one with 
steady, earnest eyes, looking lovely and peace- 
ful ; lovely as the mild autumn which lay over 
Sweden’s new-found freedom, peaceful as the 
beech- trees of Odin’s Hill reaching up to the 
blue sky above. 

And at the end of the long banqueting table 
sat a guest, silent as he had sat at that other 
table at Castle Torpa. His lips made no sound, 
he touched neither meat nor drink. Across the 
wavering light of the many candles illuminat- 
ing the table his eyes looked upon the Queen 
of Sweden, beyond her, far, infinitely far away; 
and, as in a dream, they saw a little Karin S ten- 
bock. Through the wall of the banqueting hall 
those eyes looked out upon a rocky valley, 
through which the Trollhatta was rushing and 
tumbling; and with her golden hair flooded by 
the soft light of a spring sun, Karin was stand- 
ing, saying: 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


197 


“Do not cry, Gustavus. When I am big, I 
will go with you to Denmark.” 

The clatter of glass, the noise of voices drown 
the Igw" words spoken by the dream vision, 
which, so infinitely far, yet so sunnily bright, 
met the mute, lifeless eyes of the man looking 
beyond the Queen’s chair. Kow the vision, 
smiling through her tears, says, pleadingly, 
with sobs in her voice: 

“Do not cry, Gustavus. I will be your wife, 
and then I shall be your mother, and, together, 
we will go to Denmark.” 

A tear fell from the eyes of the silent guest 
upon his silver platter. Once more Gustavus 
Rosen started, as the voice of his neighbor, on 
the right, said sympathetically : 

“Are you not feeling well, sir?” 

Rising without reply, he would have silently 
left the banqueting-hall as he had before left the 
Cathedral; when his eye met the King’s, who, 
simultaneously with him, had risen from his 
chair. 

“The King is going to speak; silence!” ran 
from mouth to mouth. Every voice was stilled ; 
and Gustavus Vasa said: 

“We have drunk to the health of many a hero, 
to whose brave deeds in forwarding the cause of 
the freedom of Sweden we have all been witness. 
But many a noble service has been rendered it 
in silence, known* to but few. Many a fight 
been fought, seen by' no eye, although perhaps 
hardest of all. I would drink to those who 


198 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


needed first to conquer themselves, ere they 
could recognize the eternal justice of our cause. 
I drink, with this toast, to the man who under- 
took the difficult task by alienating the German 
Emperor from his relative’s interests, to win 
him over to our cause ; and who, having under- 
taken it, has brought it to a triumphant con- 
clusion. To him, but for whose courage the no- 
ble mother of your queen would not have been 
among us to-day; and to whom your thanks, 
as well as mine, are due — to you, Gustavus 
Rosen! ” 

At a draught the King emptied his goblet, 
all following his example. Gustavus Vasa 
thought only of that night at Torpa on which 
he had rescued the two condemned to a cruel 
death ; on which Rosen, acknowledging his fault, 
had taken upon his own head the whole awful 
guilt of it, had confessed that he had been cog- 
nizant of the King’s guilty purposes, and, as 
penance, had placed his life at the service of 
his wronged country. Then, v/ith wise fore- 
sight, Gustavus Ericsson had confided to him 
the mission to Charles the Fifth. 

Had he in view at that time another more 
private interest in the banishment of the young 
man? Doubtless, unconsciously, and now Jong 
since forgotten. In his memory, Karin’s 
“Never” had usurped sole place, when asking 
her, on the waters of the Gota-Elf: 

“Would you fain go back to Gustavus 
Rosen?” she had answered: 

“Never! Between him and me lies an abyss 


KARIN OP SWEDEN. 


199 


deep as the Trollhatta betweea these two shores. 
My heart no longer belongs to the man who has 
betrayed Sweden.” 

What did Gustavus Rosen understand of 
those eyes of Karin which belonged to Swe- 
den’s cause? What does Gustavus Vasa know 
of those eyes of Karin which had loved Rosen? 

Sweden is free. 

Did Gustavus Ericsson’s envoy to the Ger- 
man Emperor deem that therewith he might 
atone for another wrong-doing? Did he think, 
returning, to be permitted to say, “I was 
blinded, when I betrayed Sweden — novy I have 
borne my part in the salvation of your country 
and mine!” 

The way is far from Trollhatta to the Alps. 
When Gustavus Rosen reached Upsala, the 
Cathedral bells were ringing, all the bells 
in SVeden were ringing, to celebrate the mar- 
riage of its queen. 

It was a noble, chivalrous King to whom she 
had given her hand. A man, strong, wise, and 
noble. There was not a maiden throughout all 
the land of Sweden that day who did not envy 
Karin’s lot ; maybe, too, there was many a man 
among them who would not have valued Gus- 
tavus Vasa’s crown as less worth than the 
white pearl, which, rising from out the foam 
of Trollhatta, now sat, enframed in gold, by his 
side. 

She, too, raising her eyes at the King’s last 
words — “To you, Gustavus Rosen!” — stood up. 
One look, the first she had given, was directed 


200 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


to the far end of the table; for one short second 
the Queen of Sweden had vanished from her 
gold-crowned chair, and the far away vision 
from beyond her came into her place, and stood 
alone, aad solitary, in the banqueting hall of 
Upsala. Then Karin looked away, and it dis- 
appeared again into the infinite distance, unat- 
tainable — irrecoverable. 

And night sank over Upsala, and midnight 
came, and with it silence in the marriage- house 
of Upsala. Deep stillness lay over the length 
and breadth of the Swedish kingdom; and a 
northern light alone, streaming high up into 
the zenith, shed its luster over the old capital. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


201 


CHAPTER IX. 

Golden broke the next morning over the 
liberated country. The young King had mag- 
nanimously allowed the Danish garrison in 
Stockholm safe conduct to Denmark. Justice 
and humanity began, with him, their reign 
in Sweden. The warmth of an unusually fine 
autumn lay over the newly recovered freedom. 
What had never been known before was seen 
then; the next year’s seed springing up, making 
the fields green, as far as the eye could reach, 
and the fruit-trees covered, for a second time, 
with white blossoms. Spring seemed to have 
embraced autumn with brotherly love, and for- 
ever to have broken winter’s stern sway. Re- 
joicing, the people gathered the plenteous har- 
vest into their barns, regarding the royal pair 
with reverence, as deities to whom they grate- 
fully attributed ail the blessings, with which, 
after its many years of vicissitudes of war and 
oppression, the land was overflowing. More 
especially did they look upon it as the gift cf 
Karin, whose eyes were unwearied in seeking 
out the needy; who, wise as old age, lovely and 
winning as youth, revealed in all her actions, 


202 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


not the Majesty, but the Duty which encircles 
a crown. 

Her ear was open to all ; and the faces of the 
country folk beamed with hope when her white 
horse, seldom followed by more than a groom, 
was seen approaching the outskirts of their vil- 
lage, while the children would rush indoors 
with shouts of joy to announce that the 
“ Good Queen ” was coming. The King re- 
joiced to see how she won all hearts, far and 
near. Sometimes he vfould accompany, her in 
her expeditions; more often duties of State, 
connected with the new Constitution of the 
kingdom, would detain him in Upsala. Then 
Karin would ride out alone into the light of 
the autumn sun, her groom following at some 
distance behind. Thoughtfully she would look 
into the distance, often unheeding that her 
horse, feeling his rider’s hand grow slack, 
would stop altogether. Whatever her thoughts 
might have been, her lips spake them not, even 
to herself. Her favorite direction was toward 
the lake, where, from an eminence, she could 
obtain a wide view of its blue surface. Then 
the groom knew that hours were as minutes to 
his royal mistress ; yet she was never displeased 
when, at length, riding up, he would respect- 
fully point out that the sun was sinking behind 
them. Silently, at his remark, she would turn 
her horse and ride back, and the inhabitants of 
the places through which they passed would see 
no change in the expression of the lovely face, 
calm and peaceful as ever. Thus, to-day, she 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


203 


rode homeward from the sea. It was exactly a 
year siace she had first met Griistavus Vasa oa 
the baaks of Trollhatta; and longer than she 
was wont to do had she remained on her favorite 
spot, gazing fixedly out into the immeasurable 
distance, to where, beyond the wide lake, earth 
and sky melted into one and the eye could no 
longer detect where one ended and the other be- 
gan. And, turning away at last, she rode back 
until, on her right, • the square tower of Old 
Upsala Church appeared through the leafless 
trees. 

A sudden fancy must have seized her. She 
raised her eyes to their tall summits, command- 
ing the village from the King’s Hill, then, sign- 
ing to the groom to go on toward the town 
without her, she turned off in the direction of 
the hill. Skirting the village, she reached the 
foot of Odin’s Hill through fields, then, alight- 
ing, left her horse free. 

‘‘You will wait for me, I know,” she said 
softly and in a strange tone, laying her hand 
upon his slender neck. “You will carry me 
back to the King’s house.” 

Slowly she made the ascent. It may have been 
her long habit, or the leaves so thickly strewing 
the ground, which impeded her way; for often 
she stood still, resting her head, as if wearily, 
upon her hand. Kow she had reached the sum- 
mit; the setting sun sending its dazzling rays 
full into her face. Horizontally it shed its 
greenish, melancholy light over the silent val- 
ley, over the brown beech leaves which lay, 


204 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


all fallen, thickly bestrewing the Stone of 
Sacrifice. But Karin knew every single por- 
tion of it as accurately as if her heart’s blood 
had dropped on each. Mechanically she moved 
toward the spot where her strength had forsaken 
her when Gustavus Vasa had rushed from her 
in his wild anguish; and where, later, sinking 
upon her knees, she had pressed her forehead 
upon the cold granite, before herself taking the 
way to Upsala. Her feet staggered now, as 
they had done then ; an expression of wild an- 
guish distorted the young queen’s face, usually 
so calm, as though an awful cry, no longer to 
be repressed, were about to burst from her heav- 
ing bosom. 

A sudden crackling among the dry leaves 
made her look up in alarm. Her eyes caught 
the reflection of the sun upon the gilded balls 
of Upsala Cathedral streaming toward her across 
the dark pine wood; but its golden rays were 
intercepted by the tall figure of a man leaning 
motionless against one of the beech tress. And 
now he, too, slowly turning his head, uttered a 
bitter cry. 

It was Gustavus Rosen. 

Over the leaf-bestrewn stone, the blue eyes 
were looking up to him as of yore they had 
done in old childhood’s days. Meeting his, 
they looked into each others’, speechless, mo- 
tionless, for the space of a minute, then — 

Then, with convulsive sobs, the young man, 
turning away, strode down the hillside toward 
the meadow. 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


205 


‘‘Gustavus — ” cried Karin. Hearing it, he 
started, but still went on. 

‘H command you, Gustavus, stay! Your 
queen commands — ” 

It was not spoken in tone of command; an 
expression of woe unspeakable spoke in the 
tone of the imperious words. It did not com- 
pel, it pleaded. Sad unto death was the look 
of the face he turned upon her as he came 
back. 

With firm step, Karin advanced toward him. 
The anguished look in her face had disappeared ; 
her breast no longer heaved; she was calm, as 
were her eyes, calm as the autumn air about 
her. 

‘‘ We must take leave of each other for a while, 
Gustavus — ” Her voice did not tremble; she 
had taken his hand in hers, and held it in a firm 
clasp. “We often had to do so as children, when 
the sun went down, and it always rose again.” 
As she spoke, she pointed with her other hand 
to the red, fiery ball whose last departing ray 
fell between them, as from the lofty beech-tree 
overhead the last withered leaf fluttered down 
upon her golden hair; taking it, with sorrow- 
ful smile, she gaje it him. “I have many 
flowers of remembrance from springtide’s days 
from you,” she said, “they blossomed on the 
other side of the Trollhatta. How it is autumn, 
and I have nothing to give j^-ou in remembrance 
save this poor leaf.” 

He held out his hand for it, and clutched it 
so vehemently that, crackling, it broke. For 


206 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


the first time, he opened his lips, whispering! y, 
in order to control the trembling in his voice: 

“Tell me only one thing, Karin, and I will 
take leave of you in peace — tell me only one 
thing. Are you happy? Do you love Gustavus 
Yasa?” 

The queen turned her eyes to the gilded balls 
of the Cathedral spire. 

“The woman who possesses him for her hus- 
band is blessed above women,” she answered, 
in a low voice. 

“Do you love Gustavus Yasa, Karin?” he re- 
peated the question with trembling, powerfully 
controlled emotion. 

Into one second of time was crowded the turn- 
ing point of two lives; and Karin, raising her 
blue eyes to those of the man she loved, said in 
firm, calm tones: “Yes.” 

The sun had set; the night wind rustled chill 
through the autumn air. A wild, despairing 
cry burst from Gustavus Rosen’s breast; in 
mad frenzy he stretched out his arms, and 
clasped her impetuously to him. But she de- 
terminately freed herself. 

“The queen of Sweden may go unprotected in 
any hut, in the solitude of any wood. Will you 
be the cause that she may no longer do so, Gus- 
tavus?” she said, gravely. 

Tears streamed down his face; his arms fell 
povv^erless to his side. But her arms were once 
more round his neck, her eyes were looking — 
concentrating all the joys of the past in that 
one last look — into his eyes: “Farewell, my 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


207 


Gustavus!” she breathed, rather than said, 
and drawing still closer to him, kissed him — 
and in the dusk of the evening the white horse 
of the queen was seen shooting, like a white 
star, past the dark, pine wood, along the road 
to U psala. 

Calmly, as was her wont, she entered her hus- 
band’s house, and laying her hand upon his fore- 
head lingeringly, lovingly, smoothed away the 
lines of care from it. For there were many cares 
to cloud the young King’s brow and chase sleep 
from his eyes. And sleepless, says the chron- 
icle, lay the King that night. Then Karin, 
opening her lips, spoke; and he, bending over 
her, heard her say in her dreams : 

•‘Gustavus, the King, I love full well; 

But Gustavus Rosen can I ne'er forget.'* 

Ne’er — nevermore! — the waves of Malar, 
hearing it, murmur it further, and the Hjel- 
mar Lake bears it on over the immeasurable 
waters of the Wener Lake to the rocky gate 
through which the green current dashes head- 
long. Then come the Falls of Trollhatta. 

They advance like a man’s Fate, peaceful, 
transparent, kissing the nodding grasses bending 
over them. Then there comes a slight whirl, a 
faster rush, imperceptible, unforeseen — and the 
peace, the transparency is gone, never to return. 
And now they rush on more impetuously, in- 
evitably, ever lashed more furiously, until, sud- 
denly, they are precipitated, raging and tum- 
bling, into the engulfing depths below, from 


208 


KARIN OF SWEDEN. 


which there is no rescuing arm now held out 
to save. 

These are the Falls of Trollhatta, which have 
roared and rushed for days, for centuries past. 
The boy who once played beside them has grown 
into the man; the man into the veteran who 
crawls out, leaning upon his strong staff, to gaze 
for the last time upon them. They are the so^me 
as when first he saw them, wreathed in flowers 
like spring, silver- white as winter. 

They have rushed and roared for thousands 
and thousands of years before any human ear 
was there to hear them. Far over the rocks 
they sprinkle their silvery dust, upon which 
the sun’s rays are reflected back, shining and 
sparkling, in rainbow hues. Deep down be- 
neath, though, under the dazzling, majestic 
veil, roll and toss the tumbling, angry masses 
of water. 

It is well to sit beside the Trollhatta for him 
who would fain forget, who would drown mem- 
ory in the cataract’s perpetual roar. 




THE END. 



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BURNETT 

- - - AT THE - - - 

CHICAGO EXPOSITION 


WHAT THE RESTAURATEURS AND CATERERS WHO ARE TO FEED 


THE PEOPLE INSIDE THE 

BURNETT’S 

Chicago, April 2d, 1893. 
Messrs. Joseph Burnett & co. 

GenUevnen : After careful tests and inves- 
tigation of the merits of your flavoring ex- 
tracts, we have decided to give you the 
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buildings of the World’s Columbian Ex- 
position at Jackson Park. 

Very truly yours, 
WELLINGTON CATERING CO. 

By Albert S. Gage, President. 


Chicago, April 26th, 1893. 
Messrs. Joseph Burnett & Co., 

Boston and Chicago. 

Gentlemen: After careful investigation we 
have decided that Burnett’s Flavoring Ex- 
tracts are the Lest. We shall use them ex- 
clusively in the cakes, ice creams and 
pastries served in Banquet Hall and at New 
England Clam Bake lu the World’s Fair 
Grounds. 

N. E. WOOD, Manager, 

New England Clam Bake Building 
F. K, MCDONALD, Manager, 

Banquet Hall* 


W OM AN ’s Building , > 

World’s Columbian Exposition, J 
Chicago, April 21st, 1893. 
Messrs. Joseph Burnett & Co., 

Boston and Chicago. 

Gentlemen: We take pleasure in stating 
that Burnett’s Flavoring Extracts will 
be used exclusively in the Garden Cafe, 
Woman’s Building, World’s Columbian Ex- 
position, during the period of the World’s 
Fair. 

RILEY & LAWFOKD. 


FAIR GROUNDS THINK OP 

extracts: 

Columbia Casino Co. 
Messrs. Joseph Burnett & Co., 

Bostou aud Chicago. 

Gaillemen: We take pleasure iu stating 
that BURNETT’S Flavoring Extracts will be 
used exclusively in the cuisine of the 
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use nothing but the best. Respectfully, 

H. A. WINTER, Manager, 


Transportation Building, ) 
World’s Columbian Exposition, j 
„ , ^ Chicago, April 24, 1693. 

Messrs. Joseph Burnett & Co, 

Gents; After careful tests and comparl- 
sons we have decided to use “Burnett’s 
Extracts ” exclusively in our ice creams, 
ices aud pastry. Very respectfully, 

SCHaRPS &KAHN, 
Caterers for the “ Golden Gate Cafe,’’ 

Transportation Building. 
“ TROCADERO,’’ “ 

Cor. 16th Street and Michigan Avenue. 


"The Great Whit? Horse" Inn Co., ) 
World’s Columbian > 
Exposition Grounds. ) 
Chicago, III., U. S. A., April 26, 1893. 
Messrs. Joseph Burnett & Co., 

Boston and Chicago. 

Gentlemen: It being our aim to use noth- 
ing but the best, we have decided to use 
Burnett’s Flavoring Extracts exclusively, in 
the ice cream, cakes and pastries served in 
“The Great White Horse” Inn, in the 
grounds of the World’s Columbian Expo- 
sition. Very truly yours, 

T. B. SEELEY, Manager, 
“ The Great White Horse ” Inn Co. 


The Restaurants that have contracted to use Burnett’s Extracts, exclusively, 

are as follows : 


WELLINGTON CATERING CO., 
“GREAT WHITE HORSE” INN, 
THE GARDEN CAFE, 

woman’s building, 


COLUMBIA CASINO CO., 

THE GOLDEN GATE CAFE, 

NEW ENGLAND CLAM BAKE CO., 
BANQUET HALL. 


JOSEPH BURNETT & CO., BOSTON, MASS. 




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